Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/413

Rh He swiftly draws out his dagger.

The moment has come. ''Namu Amida. Namu Amida.''

But when he tries to bring the blade against the skin
 * Of the woman he’s loved, and held, and slept with
 * So many months and years, his hands begin to shake,
 * His eyes cloud over. He attempts to stay
 * His weakening resolve, but still he trembles,
 * And when he makes a thrust the point goes off,
 * Deflecting twice or thrice with flashing blade,
 * Until a cry tells it has reached her throat.

''Namu Amida. Namu Amida. Namu Amida Butsu.''

He presses the blade ever deeper
 * And when he sees her weaken he falters too.
 * He stretches forth his arms—of all the pains
 * That life affords, none is as great as this.

Am I going to lag on after you? Let’s draw our last breaths together.

He thrusts and twists the razor in his throat
 * Until it seems the handle or the blade must snap.
 * His eyes grow dim, and his last painful breath
 * With the dawn’s receding tide is drawn away.
 * But the wind that blows through Sonezaki Wood
 * Transmits it, and high and low alike,
 * Gather to pray for them who beyond a doubt
 * Will in the future attain to Buddhahood.
 * They thus become a model of true love.