Kagekiyo too feels vaguely uneasy. He dances all the more intensely with Kuretake.
The old woman gazes at the dancers, absorbed in thought.
(Curtain.)
2. KURETAKE’S RUSTIC RESIDENCE
KURETAKE
MURASAKI, about fifteen years old
TOKIMARU, formerly Kabū, now about seventeen years old
OLD WOMAN KOSASA
Kuretake’s grass hut in the bamboo forest at Saga.
A summer night. The moon shines brightly, quietly.
Even if it is not so in the dew-wet fields of Saga …
(The curtain rises.)
Murasaki stands by herself.
Kosasa sets out to fetch water from the well.
Longing for the past in a grass hut still faithful this bamboo a single drop of dew on a bamboo leaf holds the light of the moon but this life too will fall —how sad.
The sound of a flute approaches through the bamboo forest.
Tokimaru (formerly Kabū) discovers Murasaki as he makes his way through the bamboo and runs out into the open.
TOKIMARU. Murasaki (He calls.)—it’s more difficult for a person hiding from the world to search for a person hiding from the world than it was for Kabū to search for people who slandered the Heike.
MURASAKI. (Walking towards him, nostalgically.) Tokimaru.
TOKIMARU. Murasaki—I only wanted to meet with you once. The fighting in town frightened me, so I walked through a village in the mountains, playing my flute, yearning for you.
MURASAKI. My heart was charmed by the beautiful sound of your flute.
TOKIMARU. The sound of the flute led me on to this place, where a person I knew long ago resides. I swore that if I met you I would stop playing. Here, let me give you this flute as a memento. I have nothing to regret now—now that I have met you once.
MURASAKI. Why do you keep saying “once” … ?
TOKIMARU. The haughty Heike, too, lasted but a moment …
The mighty must fall they who are together must part a single brief meeting is the same as a bond of fifty years …
Tokimaru gives the flute to Murasaki and holds her hands, reluctant to part with her.
TOKIMARU. I’ll climb Mt. Hie tomorrow. I prayed as I played my flute that the day I met you would be the day I became a priest.
The old woman returns, having filled a bucket with water. She sees them. Murasaki and Tokimaru draw apart.
OLD WOMAN. Murasaki, you mustn’t leave your mother’s side even for a moment.
She goes into the house and arranges gentians, miscanthus and other plants in the bucket.
TOKIMARU. How is Kuretake?
MURASAKI. In this life there’s no way of knowing what tomorrow will bring … She’s worn out from thinking of Kagekiyo …
TOKIMARU. Is she ill?
MURASAKI. She can’t bear to play the biwa, even, linked as it is to the Heike—she can no longer dance or sing—her life has collapsed completely. She’s shameful to look at.
TOKIMARU. No, I’m the shameful one. Horses and carts moved off to the side when they passed me, with my hair cut short, dressed in red hitatare—and I thought it was because the way I carried myself gave me an air of authority. I walked proudly about town, burst into ordinary people’s houses, captured people. To undo that sin …
OLD WOMAN. Murasaki, Murasaki.
She calls Murasaki into the house. Murasaki enters the house sadly, reluctant to part with Tokimaru.
TOKIMARU. Murasaki I’ll be a priest after tomorrow—your face will be my image of the Bodhisattva. I’ll worship it day and night.
Tokimaru starts to head back in the direction from which he came, but Murasaki comes out of the house and goes after him.
In this ephemeral world just once I was able to meet a person dear to me …
Tokimaru walks off into the bamboo forest. Murasaki follows after him for a while, then returns with the flute tucked into her obi.
OLD WOMAN. Murasaki, Murasaki.
Murasaki returns to the house.
Kosasa removes the screen. She lights the lamps.
Kuretake is lying in her bedding, sick.
I yearn to see you my love I yearn to see you I’d be thrilled if we could meet.
KURETAKE. Murasaki! We must be grateful—the light of the Buddha came streaming in. For me, a dancer, the light of the Buddha is the light of art … As long as I keep my eyes focused on that single ray, I have no troubles—I’m not sick. I begin to be able to hear the sound of Kagekiyo’s biwa, strains that rise from those four strings.
Kuretake rises and takes up the biwa. It reminds her of the past. She embraces it.
You drift on the waves of the western sea afloat in a boat when a wind blows …
KURETAKE. I don’t know where Kagekiyo has gone.
After he had gone the rustle of leaves in the clump of bamboo a lonely orphan’s ties should be with a distant father.
They all cry, heads sunk on their chests.
Kuretake sits up straight.
KURETAKE. When your mother is gone you must search for the sound of your father’s music.
MURASAKI. Yes, mother.
KURETAKE. You must dance this dance, as I teach you.
Kuretake takes her fan and stands up straight. She tries with all her heart to remain standing, though her legs are unsteady.
OLD WOMAN. GO on, Murasaki … do your best to remember the dance your mother is about to show you—go on, Murasaki.
Murasaki takes her fan and stands ready, concentrating intensely.
Oh how precious the preciousness of this day this life the life of a drop of dew yet still I chance to meet the joy of this day the sadness of this day.
Murasaki collapses. The old woman runs to her and lifts her up.
KURETAKE. I’ll be watching you from the Pure Land when you dance to the music of your father’s biwa, Murasaki.
Murasaki is possessed by her mother’s spirit. She dances more and more beautifully, more and more desperately.
Yesterday a dream tomorrow an illusion today in reality here on my lap the biwa I pluck and make sing someone’s child listens it is my own good child.
Kuretake grows progressively weaker, then stops breathing.
The old woman clings to her, weeping.
Murasaki continues to dance all the more desperately.
(Curtain.)
3. AKI-NO-MIYAJIMA
KAGEKIYO, now blind (disguised as a biwa-hōshi)
MURASAKI, dressed in travel costume
THREE GENJI SAMURAI
A PRIESTESS OF ITSUKUSHIMA SHRINE
CROWDS OF MEN AT THE FESTIVAL
CROWDS OF WOMEN AT THE FESTIVAL
A place along the open corridor which circles Itsukushima Shrine. It is the day of the Autumn Festival, the autumn leaves are beautiful. The crowds of men and women who have come for the festival are dancing.
Bugaku music continues for a short time, then the chorus sings this verse.
Along a path which drifts on waves across the sea the sighted and the blind in a single boat adrift in a single fate.
(The curtain rises.)
Yesterday we flourished with flowers in the capital today we’ve come to the autumnal western seas Aki-no Miyajima the solemn Heike palace though he is blind Kagekiyo is manly and brave excellently elegant the notes he plays the familiar tune tears fall on this biwa of mine harari hararin harari hararin the lap on which the biwa rests has grown old.
Men and women from the festival pass by.
The blind Kagekiyo leans alone on the railing of the corridor, his biwa on his back. He crouches down and listens to the music without moving.
The music stops and from the direction from which it had come three Genji samurai appear, walking down the corridor.
FIRST SAMURAI. The beautiful priestesses on this beautiful day …
SECOND SAMURAI. Long ago a priestess from Itsukushima was summoned to the capital, and at Lord Kiyomori’s mansio
n …
THIRD SAMURAI. She was so lovely she was permitted to dance even in the presence of the Cloistered Emperor Goshirakawa.
SECOND SAMURAI. The bugaku today was dedicated to the gods by Lord Yoritomo …
THIRD SAMURAI. He’s going off to fight Yoshitsune in Ōshū, he prays that he’ll win the battle …
They draw nearer to Kagekiyo, and speak suspiciously.
FIRST SAMURAI. Well, well—biwa-hōshi.
SECOND SAMURAI. Why would a biwa-hōshi be off by himself, sunk deep in thought? Vulgar, isn’t it—that ferocious expression …
THIRD SAMURAI. A suspicious man … is he a Genji or a Heike?
KAGEKIYO. I cannot see the Genji world …
THIRD SAMURAI. What?
KAGEKIYO. You’ll notice that I’m blind.
SECOND SAMURAI. What can’t you see—say that once more?
KAGEKIYO. I do not listen to the thing they call the Genji biwa.
During this exchange some of the people from the festival come across the corridor from the other side, appearing one at a time, and surround Kagekiyo and the samurai.
FIRST MAN. Why, it’s a Genji interrogation.
PEOPLE. An interrogation, an interrogation!
FIRST WOMAN. They arrest a blind biwa-hōshi …
SECOND MAN. He said he hasn’t got a Genji biwa.
Everyone laughs.
First Samurai looks over the women in the crowd.
FIRST SAMURAI. Are there any Heike women? A woman’s better than a blind man.
The women flee.
THIRD SAMURAI. At a Genji festival anything with a “Heike” in its name pollutes the shrine—get rid of that biwa.
He pushes Kagekiyo away from the railing.
THIRD MAN. IS there even such a thing as a Genji or a Heike at a festival?
FOURTH MAN. It’s the people’s festival, they’re the people’s songs.
PEOPLE. Dance, dance!
SECOND SAMURAI. What?
The samurai look angry, the people of the festival jeer.
The people dance, as though mocking the samurai.
Genji and Heike aristocrats and warriors parents and children and brothers and brothers attack one another war is the people’s agony women and children flee today the town burns and the looting …
As the chorus sings this verse the third samurai takes hold of the front of Kagekiyo’s cloak. Kagekiyo automatically assumes a fighting position and twists the samurai’s arm. The samurai show signs of fear.
The people laugh.
The three samurai become angry and drag Kagekiyo to the center of the stage.
The people jeer with increasing boisterousness.
FIRST MAN. May you turn into a three-horned devil!
FIRST SAMURAI. What!
SECOND SAMURAI. You dare defy us?
The samurai chase the people, who scatter. The people laugh, clown about and dance as they scatter.
The samurai return and address Kagekiyo.
THIRD SAMURAI. If you’re really a biwa-hōshi, sing for us.
SECOND SAMURAI. Yeah, hurry up …
FIRST SAMURAI. Sing.
Kagekiyo has no choice, so he plays.
Here on my lap the biwa my hand knows so well I play it I make it sing ah what a cheery song whose child listens it is my daughter.
The three samurai and the people from the festival all listen.
Kagekiyo stops playing and stands.
KAGEKIYO. The biwa has many modes, the heart has many registers, harari hararin.
The samurai mimic Kagekiyo.
FIRST SAMURAI. It is my daughter, harari hararin.
The samurai depart, laughing.
Kagekiyo goes off in the opposite direction.
The people watch him leave.
The morning glory eaten by insects the fate of flowers this too when autumn comes the sighing of distant fields the bank of a river in my dreams as I sleep I yearn to meet my father.
Murasaki comes dressed in travel costume from the direction where the music had been earlier, with the flute tucked into her obi. She walks down the corridor with the priestess of the shrine, looking sorrowful.
MURASAKI. I won’t mind even if I have to travel a thousand miles to meet my father, the man I search for. But I thought if I became a priestess here at Miyajima I would certainly meet him—that’s why I came.
PRIESTESS. (Apparently unable to comfort her.) How very sad. It sounds as though you’re from the capital—and you’re so beautiful. Even if you hope to dance, it won’t be allowed.
MURASAKI. You were kind enough to show me that elegant dance—even that was a comfort. This journey is so terrible, your dancing was a positive joy.
Murasaki fusses with her clothes, as though unwilling to part with the priestess.
Autumn drizzle on a mountain path snow on a road near the coast even these breasts of mine freeze as I travel alone …
The samurai return. Seeing Murasaki, they draw near her.
FIRST SAMURAI. Wow, beautiful. I haven’t seen you around here, young lady—are you a Genji firefly?
SECOND SAMURAI. Or a Heike bell cricket?
PRIESTESS. (Thrown into confusion, shielding MURASAKI.) She has asked to be made a priestess, she’s a guest …
FIRST SAMURAI. NO, she’s not the kind of girl to dance before a god. She looks like a dancer, like she plays with men. Play your flute for us.
THIRD SAMURAI. Flute … ? First that biwa, now this flute—these travelers with their musical instruments seem a bit strange. And she’s too beautiful—it’s suspicious.
He moves to catch hold of Murasaki.
FIRST SAMURAI. Hey, hey. Play your flute for us. Sing for us. If you dance well we’ll let you be a priestess at the shrine.
MURASAKI. Will you really?
FIRST SAMURAI. Go on, hurry up and dance.
Murasaki dances.
Still I chance to meet the joy of this day the sadness of this day yesterday a dream tomorrow an illusion today in reality here on my lap.
People from the festival appear one by one as she sings. They watch. The samurai mimic Murasaki as she dances.
FIRST SAMURAI. Yeah, you said it—in reality here on my lap.
MURASAKI. Will you let me be a priestess here?
SECOND WOMAN. That song on the biwa, earlier …
THIRD WOMAN. This one was just like it …
MURASAKI. What? What do you mean, a biwa song just like it …
FOURTH WOMAN. A song a traveler sang earlier.
MURASAKI. That traveler … What kind of person was he? Which way did he go?
WOMAN 1, 5, 6. He went that way just a moment ago.
Murasaki heads hurriedly in that direction.
Looking out over the mountain scenery more beautiful than I had heard Itsukushima.
Murasaki hurries on as this verse is sung, until a samurai calls out to her.
FIRST SAMURAI. It was this way—if you’re looking for the traveler, go this way.
He points in the opposite direction, winking at samurai two and three.
SAMURAI 2, 3. Right, this way, this way.
MURASAKI. Was it really?
Murasaki starts to go in the opposite direction.
PEOPLE. That way, that way.
Murasaki heads back again.
SECOND SAMURAI. Hey!
SAMURAI 1, 3. This way, we’re telling you this way.
The samurai lead Murasaki forcibly in the direction opposite from the one in which Kagekiyo went.
PEOPLE. But—
The people start to follow, but the first samurai glowers at them.
SAMURAI 1, 2. Dance!
PEOPLE. Dance!
The people from the festival dance peacefully.
So very numerous the votive tablets the sound of bells on a priestess dancing a bugaku dance in the rising tide lanterns not autumn stars reflect in the autumn-dyed mountains a deer cries I bow my head in p
rayer with a quiet heart I’ll go from island to island I board the boat from the sandbank at the torii untie the line that strings us to the shore and push off the oars’ sweep beats a single rhythm a peaceful cheery song.
The dancing people move away as they dance.
Then, as if nothing has happened, Kagekiyo appears on the corridor. He walks from stage right to stage left. When he reaches the middle of the stage the lights are extinguished.
(Curtain.)
4. TOMO INLET
KAGEKIYO
MURASAKI
TWO BOAT-WOMEN
THREE TRAVELERS
TWO BOYS FROM THE VILLAGE
ONE GIRL FROM THE VILLAGE
An inland sea, the harbor at Tomo. The ocean off in the distance, a strait with no mouth. A small island closer to shore. The sky is overcast, it looks as if it might begin to snow at any minute. Shikoku is not visible.
The boat-women’s small boat is near the shore.
A light snow starts to fall. Children from the village dance playfully.
In the inlet at Tomo women divers fish for bream in the sea at Tomo women divers draw in their nets they are so dear they are so dear.
For their sisters women divers fish for bream for their sisters women divers draw in their nets they are so dear they are so dear.
(The curtain rises.)
The fish climb the wind blows striking the bucket-drum striking the bucket-drum how I wish it would clear how I wish it would clear.
Kagekiyo walks on stage while the children are dancing, then stands still.
GIRL. Look! A biwa-hōshi, a biwa-hōshi!
FIRST BOY. Gosh it’s sad, isn’t it—a blind priest.
Radical Shadows Page 7
