Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/282

278 “Hail, O Spirit. May you be delivered from the endless round of incarnations. May you attain the instantaneous enlightenment of Buddhahood.”


 * (Rising, the Monk goes and takes a seat near the Flute Pillar. There is an interval of music accompanied by cries of the drummers. The curtain is swept back and the Hunter appears, now in supernatural form. He wears a tragic mask of a gaunt old man, just human enough in appearance to be unearthly, and an unkempt black wig which flares wildly down over his shoulders. Over his outer kimono, dappled with white and gray, he wears a short apron made of white and brown feathers. He carries a long stick and a fan. He comes slowly down the Bridge, as though summoned by the Monk’s prayers. Reaching the Shite’s Pillar, he stops and chants an old poem.)

“At Soto no Hama of Michinoku there is the sound of birds, tenderly calling, tenderly cherishing—‘Utō,’ sing the parents in the sky, ‘Yasukata,’ the young answer from the beaches.”


 * (The Hunter makes a gesture indicating he is drawing near the house.)

Even as the Holy Sutra says, “Behold but once the sotoba, and be delivered for all time from the Three Evil Paths, beset by beasts and demons and hungry ghosts.” Truly then a sotoba is a blessed thing, a memorial tablet carved fivefold, the five elements of the Buddha Body, the mere sight of which can save. But how much more if it be a sotoba raised expressly for my own sake, if a requiem be said in my own name.

For even in the icy Hell of the Scarlet Lotus the Fire of Holy Wisdom is not extinguished. For even in the Hell of Raging Fire the Waters of Dharma still quench.

And, nevertheless, still the burden of sin heaps high upon this flesh…. When may this soul find peace? … When can the birds find their stolen young? … O the killing!