{"collection":"Buddhism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/bud/gbf/gbf03.htm","path":"bud/gbf/gbf03.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/bud/gbf/gbf03.htm","text":"Gleaings in Buddha-Fields, by Lafcadio Hearn, [1897]\n\"THESE,\" said Manyemon, putting on the table a roll of wonderfully written Japanese manuscript, \"are Vulgar Songs. If they are to be spoken of in some honorable book, perhaps it will be good to say that they are Vulgar, so that Western people may not be deceived.\"\nNext to my house there is a vacant lot, where washermen (sentakuya) work in the ancient manner,\u2014singing as they work, and whipping the wet garments upon big flat stones. Every morning at daybreak their singing wakens me; and I like to listen to it, though I cannot often catch the words. It is fall of long, queer, plaintive modulations. Yesterday, the apprentice\u2014a lad of fifteen\u2014and the master of the washermen were singing alternately,\nas if answering each other; the contrast between the tones of the man, sonorous as if boomed through a conch, and the clarion alto of the boy, being very pleasant to bear. Whereupon I called Manyemon and asked him what the singing was about.\n\"The song of the boy,\" he said, \"is an old song:\u2014\nThings never changed since the Time of the Gods\n The flowing of water, the Way of Love.\nI heard it often when I was myself a boy.\" And the other song? \"The other song is probably new:\u2014\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Three years thought of her,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Five years sought for her;\n Only for one night held her in my arms.\nA very foolish song!\"\n\"I don't know,\" I said. \"There are famous Western romances containing nothing wiser. And what is the rest of the song?\"\n\"There is no more: that is the whole of the song. If it be honorably desired, I can write down the songs of the washermen, and the songs which are sung in this street by the smiths and the carpenters and the bamboo-weavers\nand the rice-cleaners. But they are all nearly the same.\"\nThus came it to pass that Manyemon made for me a collection of Vulgar Songs.\nBy \"vulgar\" Manyemon meant written in the speech of the common people. He is himself an adept at classical verse, and despises the hayari-uta, or ditties of the day; it requires something very delicate to please him. And what pleases him I am not qualified to write about; for one must be a very good Japanese scholar to meddle with the superior varieties of Japanese poetry. If you care to know how difficult the subject is, just study the chapter on prosody in Aston's Grammar of the Japanese Written Language, or the introduction to Professor Chamberlain's Classical Poetry of the Japanese. Her poetry is the one original art which Japan has certainly not borrowed either from China or from any other country; and its most refined charm is the essence, irreproducible, of the very flower of the language itself: hence the difficulty of representing, even partially, in any Western tongue, its subtler delicacies of sentiment,\nallusion, and color. But to understand the compositions of the people no scholarship is needed: they are characterized by the greatest possible simplicity, directness, and sincerity. The real art of them, in short, is their absolute artlessness. That was why I wanted them. Springing straight from the heart of the eternal youth of the race, these little gushes of song, like the untaught poetry of every people, utter what belongs to all human experience rather than to the limited life of a class or a time; and' even in their melodies still resound the fresh and powerful pulsings of their primal source.\nManyemon had written down forty-seven songs; and with his help I made free renderings of the best. They were very brief, varying from seventeen to thirty-one syllables in length. Nearly all Japanese poetical metre consists of simple alternations of lines of five and seven syllables; the frequent exceptions which popular songs offer to this rule being merely irregularities such as the singer can smooth over either by slurring or by prolonging certain vowel sounds. Most of the songs\nwhich Manyemon had collected were of twenty-six syllables only; being composed of three successive lines of seven syllables each, followed by one of five, thus:\u2014\nKa-mi-yo ko-no-ka-ta\n Ka-wa-ra-nu mo-no wa:\n Mi-dzu no na-ga-r\u00e9 to\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ko-i no mi-chi.[1]\nAmong various deviations from this construction I found 7-7-7-7-5, and 5-7-7-7-5, and 7-5-7-5, and 5-7-5; but the classical five-line form (tanka), represented by 6-7-5-7-7, was entirely absent.\nTerms indicating gender were likewise absent; even the expressions corresponding to \"I\" and \"you\" being seldom used, and the words signifying \"beloved\" applying equally to either sex. Only by the conventional value of some comparison, the use of a particular emotional tone, or the mention of some detail of costume, was the sex of the speaker suggested, as in this verse:\u2014\nI am the water-weed drifting, finding no place of attachment:\n Where, I wonder, and when, shall my flower begin to bloom?\n[1. Literally, \"God-Age-since not-changed-things as-for: water-of-flowing and love-of way.\"]\nEvidently the speaker is a girl who wishes for a lover: the same simile uttered by masculine lips would sound in Japanese ears much as would sound in English ears a man's comparison of himself to a violet or to a rose. For the like reason, one knows that in the following song the speaker is not a woman:\u2014\nFlowers in both my hands,\u2014flowers of plum and cherry:\n Which will be, I wonder, the flower to give me fruit?\nWomanly charm is compared to the cherry flower and also to the plum flower; but the quality symbolized by the plum flower is moral always rather than physical.[1] The verse represents a man strongly attracted by two girls: one, perhaps a dancer, very fair to look upon; the other beautiful in character. Which shall he choose to be his companion for life?\nOne more example:\u2014\nToo long, with pen in hand, idling, fearing, and doubting,\n I cast my silver pin for the test of the tatamizan.\nHere we know from the mention of the hairpin that the speaker is a woman, and we can also suppose that she is a geisha; the sort of divination called tatamizan being especially\n[1. See Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, ii. 357.]\npopular with dancing-girls. The rush covering of floor-mats (tatami), woven over a frame of thin strings, shows on its upper surface a regular series of lines about three fourths of an inch apart. The girl throws her pin upon a mat, and then counts the lines it touches. According to their number she deems herself lucky or unlucky. Sometimes a little pipe\u2014geishas' pipes are usually of silver\u2014is used instead of the hairpin.\nThe theme of all the songs was love, as indeed it is of the vast majority of the Japanese chansons des rues et des bois; even songs about celebrated places usually containing some amatory suggestion. I noticed that almost every simple phase of the emotion, from its earliest budding to its uttermost ripening, was represented in the collection; and I therefore tried to arrange the pieces according to the natural passional sequence. The result had some dramatic suggestiveness.\nThe songs really form three distinct groups, each corresponding to a particular period of\nthat emotional experience which is the subject of all. In the first group of seven the surprise and pain and weakness of passion find utterance; beginning with a plaintive cry of reproach and closing with a whisper of trust.\nI\nYou, by all others disliked!\u2014oh, why must my heart thus like you?\nII\nThis pain which I cannot speak of to any one in the world:\n Tell me who has made it,\u2014whose do you think the fault?\nIII\nWill it be night forever?\u2014I lose my way in this darkness:\n Who goes by the path of Love must always go astray!\nIV\nEven the brightest lamp, even the light electric,\n Cannot lighten at all the dusk of the Way of Love.\nV\nAlways the more I love, the more it is hard to say so:\n Oh! how happy I were should the loved one say it first!\nVI\nSuch a little word only to say, \"I love you\"!\n Why, oh, why do I find it hard to say like this?[1]\n[1. Inimitably simple in the original:\u2014\nHoreta wai na to\n Sukoshi no koto ga: Naz\u00e9 ni kono y\u00f4 ni\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Iinikui?\n]\nVII\nClicked-to[1] the locks of our hearts; let the keys remain in our bosoms.\nAfter which mutual confidence the illusion naturally deepens; suffering yields to a joy that cannot disguise itself, and the keys of the heart are thrown away: this is the second stage.\nThe person who said before, \"I hate my life since I saw you,\"\n Now after union prays to live for a thousand years.\nYou and I together\u2014lilies that grow in a valley:\n This is our blossoming-time\u2014but nobody knows the fact.\nReceiving from his hand the cup of the wine of greeting,\n Even before I drink, I feel that my face grows red.\n[1. In the original this is expressed by an onomatope, pinto, imitating the sound of the fastening of the look of a tansu or chest of drawers:\u2014\nPinto kokoro ni\n J\u00f4mai oroshi:\n Kagi wa tagai no\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Mun\u00e9 ni aru.\nI cannot hide in my heart the happy knowledge that fills it;\n Asking each not to tell, I spread the news all round.[1]\nAll crows alike are black, everywhere under heaven.\n The person that others like, why should not I like too?\nGoing to see the beloved, a thousand ri are as one ri;[2]\n Returning without having seen, one ri is a thousand ri.\nGoing to see the beloved, even the water of rice-fields[3]\n Ever becomes, as I drink, nectar of gods I to the taste.\n[1. Much simpler in the original:\u2014\nMun\u00e9 ni tsutsumenu\n Ur\u00e9shii koto wa;\u2014\n Kuchidom\u00e9 shinagara\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Fur\u00e9aruku.\n2. One ri is equal to about two and a half English miles.\n3. In the original dorota; literally \"mud rice-fields,\" meaning rice-fields during the time of flushing, before the grain has fairly grown up. The whole verse reads:\u2014\nHoret\u00e9 kayoyeba,\n Dorota no midzu mo\n Nom\u00e9ba, kanro no,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Aji ga suru.\n4 Kanro, a Buddhist word, properly written with two Chinese characters signifying \"sweet dew.\" The real meaning is amrita, the drink of the gods.]\nVIII\nYou, till a hundred years; I, until nine and ninety;\n Together we still shall be in the time when the hair turns white.\nIX\nSeeing the face, at once the folly I wanted to utter\n All melts out of my thought, and somehow the tears come first![1]\nX\nCrying for joy made wet my sleeve that dries too quickly;\n 'Tis not the same with the heart,\u2014that cannot dry so soon!\nXI\nTo Heaven with all my soul I prayed to prevent your going;\n Already, to keep you with me, answers the blessed rain.\nSo passes the period of illusion. The rest is doubt and pain; only the love remains to challenge even death:\u2014\nParted from you, my beloved, I go alone to the pine-field;\n There is dew of night on the leaves; there is also dew of tears.\n[1.\nIitai guchi say\u00e9\n Kao miriya kiy\u00e9t\u00e9\n Tokaku namida ga\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Saki ni deru.\nThe use of tokaku (\"somehow,\" for \"some reason or other\") gives a peculiar pathos to the utterance.]\nEven to see the birds flying freely above me\n Only deepens my sorrow,\u2014makes me thoughtful the more.\nComing? or coming not? Far down the river gazing,\u2014\n Only yomogi shadows[1] astir in the bed of the stream.\nLetters come by the post; photographs give me the shadow!\n Only one thing remains which I cannot hope to gain.\nIf I may not see the face, but only look at the letter,\n Then it were better far only in dreams to see.\nThough his body were broken to pieces, though his bones on the shore were bleaching,\n I would find my way to rejoin him, after gathering up the bones.[2]\n[1. The plant yomogi (Artemisia vulgaris) grows wild in many of the half-dry beds of the Japanese rivers.\n2.\nMi wa kuda\u00a0kuda ni\n Hon\u00e9 we isob\u00e9 ni\n Sarasoto mama yo\n Hiroi atsum\u00e9t\u00e9\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0S\u00f4t\u00e9 misho.\nThe only song of this form in the collection. The use of the verb soi implies union as husband and wife.]\nThus was it that these little songs, composed in different generations and in different parts of Japan by various persons, seemed to shape themselves for me into the ghost of a romance,\u2014into the shadow of a story needing no name of time or place or person, because eternally the same, in all times and places.\nManyemon asks which of the songs I like best; and I turn over his manuscript again to see if I can make a choice. Without, in the bright spring air, the washers are working; and I hear the heavy pon-pon of the beating of wet robes, regular as the beating of a heart. Suddenly, as I muse, the voice of the boy soars up in one long, clear, shrill, splendid rocket-tone,\u2014and breaks,\u2014and softly trembles down in coruscations of fractional notes; singing the song that Manyemon remembers bearing when he himself was a boy:\u2014\nThings never changed since the Time of the Gods:\n The flowing of water, the Way of Love.\n\"I think that is the best,\" I said. \"It is the soul of all the rest.\"\n\"Hin no nusubito, koi no uta,\" interpretatively murmurs Manyemon. \"Even as out of poverty comes the thief, so out of love the song!\"","title":"Gleanings in Buddha-Fields: II. Out of the Street","type":"page"}