A MOTHER’S REMEMBRANCE
Sweet and clear in the night, the voice of a boy at study,
Reading out of a book…. I also once had a boy!
A MEMORY IN SPRING
She, who, departing hence, left to the flowers of the plum-tree,
Blooming beside our eaves, the charm of her youth and beauty,
And maiden pureness of heart, to quicken their flush and fragrance,—
Ah! where does she dwell to-day, our dear little vanished sister?
FANCIES OF ANOTHER FAITH
(1) I sought in the place of graves the tomb of my vanished friend:
From ancient cedars above there rippled a wild doves cry.
(2) Perhaps a freak of the wind-yet perhaps a sign of remembrance,—
This fall of a single leaf on the water I pour for the dead.
(3)I whispered a prayer at the grave: a butterfly rose and fluttered—
Thy spirit, perhaps, dear friend!…
IN A CEMETERY AT NIGHT
This light of the moon that plays on the water I pour for the dead,
Differs nothing at all from the moonlight of other years.
AFTER LONG ABSENCE
The garden that once I loved, and even the hedge of the garden,—
All is changed and strange: the moonlight only is faithful;—
The moon alone remembers the charm of the time gone by!
MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA
O vapory moon of spring!—would that one plunge into ocean
Could win me renewal of life as a part of thy light on the waters!
AFTER FAREWELL
Whither now should! look?—where is the place of parting?
Boundaries all have vanished;—nothing tells of direction:
Only the waste of sea under the shining moon!
HAPPY POVERTY
Wafted into my room, the scent of the flowers of the plum-tree
Changes my broken window into a source of delight.
AUTUMN FANCIES
(1) Faded the clover now;—sere and withered the grasses:
What dreams the matsumushi[3] in the desolate autumn-fields?
(2) Strangely sad, I thought, sounded the bell of evening;—
Haply that tone proclaimed the night in which autumn dies!
(3) Viewing this autumn-moon, I dream of my native village
Under the same soft light,—and the shadows about my home.
[3] A musical cricket—calyptotryphus marmoratus.
IN TIME OF GRIEF, HEARING A SÉMI (CICADA)
Only “I,” “I,”—the cry of the foolish semi!
Any one knows that the world is void as its cast-off shell.
ON THE CAST-OFF SHELL OF A SÉMI
Only the pitiful husk!… O poor singer of summer,
Wherefore thus consume all thy body in song?
SUBLIMITY OF INTELLECTUAL POWER
The mind that, undimmed, absorbs the foul and the pure together—
Call it rather a sea one thousand fathoms deep![4]
[4] This is quite novel in its way,—a product of the University: the original runs thus:—
Nigoréru mo
Suméru mo tomo ni
Iruru koso
Chi-hiro no umi no
Kokoro nari-keré!
SHINTŌ REVERY
Mad waves devour The rocks: I ask myself in the darkness,
“Have I become a god?” Dim is The night and wild!
“Have I become a god?”—that is to say, “Have I died?—am I only a ghost in this desolation?” The dead, becoming kami or gods, are thought to haunt wild solitudes by preference.
IV
The poems above rendered are more than pictorial: they suggest something of emotion or sentiment. But there are thousands of pictorial poems that do not; and these would seem mere insipidities to a reader ignorant of their true purpose. When you learn that some exquisite text of gold means only, “Evening-sunlight on the wings of the water-fowl,”—or,”Now in my garden the flowers bloom, and the butterflies dance,”—then your first interest in decorative poetry is apt to wither away. Yet these little texts have a very real merit of their own, and an intimate relation to Japanese aesthetic feeling and experience. Like the pictures upon screens and fans and cups, they give pleasure by recalling impressions of nature, by reviving happy incidents of travel or pilgrimage, by evoking the memory of beautiful days. And when this plain fact is fully understood, the persistent attachment of modern Japanese poets—notwithstanding their University training—to the ancient poetical methods, will be found reasonable enough.
I need offer only a very few specimens of the purely pictorial poetry. The following—mere thumb-nail sketches in verse—are of recent date.
LONESOMENESS
Furu-dera ya:
Kané mono iwazu;
Sakura chiru.
—“Old temple: bell voiceless; cherry-flowers fall.”
MORNING AWAKENING AFTER A NIGHT’S REST IN A TEMPLE
Yamadera no
Shichō akéyuku:
Taki no oto.
—“In the mountain-temple the paper mosquito-curtain is lighted by the dawn: sound of water-fall.”
WINTER-SCENE
Yuki no mura;
Niwatori naité;
Aké shiroshi.
“Snow-village;—cocks crowing;—white dawn.”
Let me conclude this gossip on poetry by citing from another group of verses—also pictorial, in a certain sense, but chiefly remarkable for ingenuity—two curiosities of impromptu. The first is old, and is attributed to the famous poetess Chiyo. Having been challenged to make a poem of seventeen syllables referring to a square, a triangle, and a circle, she is said to have immediately responded,—
Kaya no té wo
Hitotsu hazushité,
Tsuki-mi kana!
—“Detaching one corner of the mosquito-net, lo! I behold the moon!” The top of the mosquito-net, suspended by cords at each of its four corners, represents the square;—letting down the net at one corner converts the square into a triangle;—and the moon represents the circle.
The other curiosity is a recent impromptu effort to portray, in one verse of seventeen syllables, the last degree of devil-may-care-poverty,—perhaps the brave misery of the wandering student;—and I very much doubt whether the effort could be improved upon:—
Nusundaru
Kagashi no kasa ni
Amé kyū nari.
—“Heavily pours the rain on the hat that I stole from the scarecrow!”
Japanese Buddhist Proverbs
As representing that general quality of moral experience which remains almost unaffected by social modifications of any sort, the proverbial sayings of a people must always possess a special psychological interest for thinkers. In this kind of folklore the oral and the written literature of Japan is rich to a degree that would require a large book to exemplify. To the subject as a whole no justice could be done within the limits of a single essay. But for certain classes of proverbs and proverbial phrases something can be done within even a few pages; and sayings related to Buddhism, either by allusion or derivation, form a class which seems to me particularly worthy of study. Accordingly, with the help of a Japanese friend, I have selected and translated the following series of examples,—choosing the more simple and familiar where choice was possible, and placing the originals in alphabetical order to facilitate reference. Of course the selection is imperfectly representative; but it will serve to illustrate certain effects of Buddhist teaching upon popular thought and speech.
1.—Akuji mi ni tomaru.
All evil done clings to the body.[1]
2.—Atama soru yori kokoro wo soré.
Better to shave the heart than to shave the head.[2]
3.—Au wa wakaré no hajimé.
Meeting is only the beginning of separation.[3]
4.—Banji wa yumé.
All things[4] are merely dreams.
5.—Bonbu mo satoréba hotoké nari.
Even a common man by obtaining knowledge becomes a Buddha.[5]
6.—Bonnō kunō.
All lust is grief.[6]
7—Buppō to wara-ya no amé, dété kiké.
One must go outside to hear Buddhist doctrine or the sound of rain on a straw roof.[7]
8.—Busshō en yori okoru.
Out of karma-relation even the divine nature itself grows.[8]
9.—Enkō ga tsuki wo toran to suru ga gotoshi.
Like monkeys trying to snatch the moon’s reflection on water.[9]
10.—En naki shujō wa doshi gatashi.
To save folk having no karma-relation would be difficult indeed![10]
11.—Fujō seppō suru hōshi wa, birataké ni umaru.
The priest who preaches foul doctrine shall be reborn as a fungus.
12.—Gaki mo ninzu.
Even gaki (prêtas) can make a crowd.[11]
13.—Gaki no mé ni midzu miézu.
To the eyes of gaki water is viewless.[12]
14.—Goshō wa daiji.
The future life is the all-important thing.[13]
15.—Gun-mō no tai-zō wo saguru ga gotoshi.
Like a lot of blind men feeling a great elephant.[14]
16.—Gwai-men nyo-Bosatsu; nai shin nyo-Yasha.
In outward aspect a Bodhisattva; at innermost heart a demon.[15]
17.—Hana wa né ni kaeru.
The flower goes back to its root.[16]
18.—Hibiki no koë ni ozuru ga gotoshi.
Even as the echo answers to the voice.[17]
19.—Hito wo tasukéru ga shukhé no yuku.
The task of the priest is to save mankind.
20.—Hi wa kiyurédomo tō-shin wa kiyédzu.
Though the flame be put out, the wick remains.[18]
21.—Hotoké mo motowa bonbu.
Even the Buddha was originally but a common man.
22.—Hotoké ni naru mo shami wo beru.
Even to become a Buddha one must first become a novice.
23.—Hotoké no kao mo sando.
Even a Buddha’s face,—only three times.[19]
24.—Hotoké tanondé Jigoku é yuku.
Praying to Buddha one goes to hell.[20]
25.—Hotoké tsukutté tamashii irédzu.
Making a Buddha without putting in the soul.[21]
26.—Ichi-ju no kagé, ichi-ga no nagaré, tashō no en.
Even [the experience of] a single shadow or a single flowing of water, is [made by] the karma-relations of a former life.[22]
27.—Ichi-mō shū-mō wo hiku.
One blind man leads many blind men.[23]
28.—Ingwa na ko.
A karma-child.[24]
29.—Ingwa wa, kuruma no wa.
Cause-and-effect is like a wheel.[25]
30.—Innen ga fukai.
The karma-relation is deep.[26]
31.—Inochi wa fū-zen no tomoshibi.
Life is a lamp-flame before a wind.[27]
32.—Issun no mushi ni mo, gobu no tamashii.
Even a worm an inch long has a soul half-an-inch long.[28]
33.—Iwashi[29] no atama mo shinjin kara.
Even the head of an iwashi, by virtue of faith, [will have power to save, or heal].
34.—Jigō-jitoku.[30]
The fruit of ones own deeds [in a previous state of existence].
35.—Jigoku dé hotoké.
Like meeting with a Buddha in hell.[31]
36.—Jigoku Gokuraku wa kokoro ni ari.
Hell and Heaven are in the hearts of men.[32]
37.—Jigoku mo sumika.
Even Hell itself is a dwelling-place.[33]
38.—Jigoku ni mo shiru bito.
Even in hell old acquaintances are welcome.
39.—Kagé no katachi ni shitagau gotoshi.
Even as the shadow follows the shape.[34]
40.—Kané wa Amida yori bikaru.
Money shines even more brightly than Amida.[35]
41.—Karu-toki no Jizō-gao; nasu-toki no Emma-gao.
Borrowing-time, the face of Jizō; repaying-time, the face of Emma.[36]
42.—Kiité Gokuraku, mité Jigoku.
Heard of only, it is Paradise; seen, it is Hell.[37]
43.—Kōji mon wo idézu: akuji sen ni wo hashiru.
Good actions go not outside of the gate: bad deeds travel a thousand ri.
44.—Kokoro no koma ni tadzuna wo yuru-suna.
Never let go the reins of the wild colt of the heart.
45.—Kokoro no oni ga mi wo séméru.
The body is tortured only by the demon of the heart.[38]
46.—Kokoro no shi to wa naré; kokoro wo shi to sezaré.
Be the teacher of your heart: do not allow your heart to become your teacher.
47.—Kono yo wa kari no yado.
This world is only a resting-place.[39]
48.—Kori wo chiribamé; midzu ni égaku.
To inlay ice; to paint upon water.[40]
[1] The consequence of any evil act or thought never,—so long as karma endures,—will cease to act upon the existence of the person guilty of it.
[2] Buddhist nuns and priests have their heads completely shaven. The proverb signifies that it is better to correct the heart,—to conquer all vain regrets and desires,—than to become a religious. In common parlance the phrase “to shave the head” means to become a monk or a nun.
[3] Regret and desire are equally vain in this world of impermanency; for all joy is the beginning of an experience that must have its pain. This proverb refers directly to the sutra-text,—Shōja hitsumetsu é-sha-jori,—” All that live must surely die; and all that meet will surely part.”
[4] Literally, “ten thousand things.”
[5] The only real differences of condition are differences in knowledge of the highest truth.
[6] All sensual desire invariably brings sorrow.
[7] There is an allusion here to the condition of the shukké (priest): literally, “one who has left his house.” The proverb suggests that the higher truths of Buddhism cannot be acquired by those who continue to live in the world of follies and desires.
[8] There is good as well as bad karma. Whatever hap-piness we enjoy is not less a consequence of the acts and thoughts of previous lives, than is any misfortune that comes to us. Every good thought and act contributes to the evolution of the Buddha-nature within each of us. Another proverb [No. 10],—En naki shujō wa doshi gatashi,—further illustrates the meaning of this one.
[9] Allusion to a parable, said to have been related by the Buddha himself, about some monkeys who found a well under a tree, and mistook for reality the image of the moon in the water. They resolved to seize the bright apparition. One monkey suspended himself by the tail from a branch overhanging the well, a second monkey clung to the first, a third to the second, a fourth to the third, and so on,—till the long chain of bodies had almost reached the water. Suddenly the branch broke under the unaccustomed weight; and all the monkeys were drowned.
[10] No karma-relation would mean an utter absence of merit as well as of demerit.
[11] Literally: “Even gaki are a multitude (or, ‘population’).” This is a popular saying used in a variety of ways. The ordinary meaning is to the effect that no matter how poor or miserable the individuals composing a multitude, they collectively represent a respectable force. Jocosely the saying is sometimes used of a crowd of wretched or tired-looking people,—sometimes of an assembly of weak boys desiring to make some demonstration,—sometimes of a miserable-looking company of soldiers.—Among the lowest classes of the people it is not uncommon to call a deformed or greedy person a “gaki.”
[12] Some authorities state that those prêtas who suffer especially from thirst, as a consequence of faults committed in former lives, are unable to see water.—This proverb is used in speaking of persons too stupid or vicious to perceive a moral truth.
[13] The common people often use the curious expression “gosho-daiji” as an equivalent for “extremely important.”
[14] Said of those who ignorantly criticise the doctrines of Buddhism.—The proverb alludes to a celebrated fable in the Avadânas, about a number of blind men who tried to decide the form of an elephant by feeling the animal. One, feeling the leg, declared the elephant to be like a tree; another, feeling the trunk only, declared the elephant to be like a serpent; a third, who felt only the side, said that the elephant was like a wall; a fourth, grasping the tail, said that the elephant was like a rope, etc.
[15] Yasha (Sanscrit Yaksha), a man-devouring demon.
[16] This proverb is most often used in reference to death,—signifying that all forms go back into the nothingness out of which they spring. But it may also be used in relation to the law of cause-and-effect.
[17] Referring to the doctrine of cause-and-effect. The philosophical beauty of the comparison will be appreciated only if we bear in mind that even the tone of the echo repeats the tone of the voice.
[18] Although the passions may be temporarily overcome, their sources remain. A proverb of like meaning is, Bonnō no inu oëdomo sarazu: “Though driven away, the Dog of Lust cannot be kept from coming back again.”
[19] This is a short popular form of the longer proverb, Hotoké no kao mo sando nazuréba, hara wo tatsu: “Stroke even the face of a Buddha three times, and his anger will be roused.”
[20] The popular saying, Oni no Nembutsu,—“a devil’s praying,”—has a similar meaning.
[21] That is to say, making an image of the Buddha without giving it a soul. This proverb is used in reference to the conduct of those who undertake to do some work, and leave the most essential part of the work unfinished. It contains an allusion to the curious ceremony called Kai-gen, or “Eye-Opening.” This Kai-gen is a kind of consecration, by virtue of which a newly-made image is supposed to become animated by the real presence of the divinity represented.
[22] Even so trifling an occurrence as that of resting with another person under the shadow of a tree, or drinking from the same spring with another person, is caused by the karma-relations of some previous existence.
[23] From the Buddhist work Dai-chi-dō-ron.—The reader will find a similar proverb in Rhys-David’s “Buddhist Suttas” (Sacred Books of the East), p. 173,—together with a very curious parable, cited in a footnote, which an Indian commentator gives in explanation.
[24] A common saying among the lower classes in reference to an unfortunate or crippled child. Here the word ingwa is used especially in the retributive sense. It usually signifies evil karma; kwahō being the term used in speaking of meritorious karma and its results. While an unfortunate child is spoken of as “a child of ingwa,” a very lucky person is called a “kwahō-mono,”—that is to say, an instance, or example of kwahō.
[25] The comparison of karma to the wheel of a wagon will be familiar to students of Buddhism. The meaning of this proverb is identical with that of the Dhammapada verse:—“If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him as the wheel follows the foot of the ox that draws the carriage.”
[26] A saying very commonly used in speaking of the attachment of lovers, or of the unfortunate results of any close relation between two persons.
[27] Or, “like the flame of a lamp exposed to the wind.” A frequent expression in Buddhist literature is “the Wind of Death.”
[28] Literally, “has a soul of five bu,”—five bu being equal to half of the Japanese inch. Buddhism forbids all taking of life, and classes as living things (Ujō) all forms having sentiency. The proverb, however,—as the use of the word “soul” (tamashii) implies,—reflects popular belief rather than Buddhist philosophy. It signifies that any life, however small or mean, is entitled to mercy.
[29] The iwashi is a very small fish, much resembling a sardine. The proverb implies that the object of worship signifies little, so long as the prayer is made with perfect faith and pure intention.
[30] Few popular Buddhist phrases are more often used than this. Jigō signifies ones own acts or thoughts; jitoku, to bring upon oneself,—nearly always in the sense of misfortune, when the word is used in the Buddhist way. “Well, it is a matter of Jigō-jitoku,” people will observe on seeing a man being taken to prison; meaning, “He is reaping the consequence of his own faults.”
[31] Refers to the joy of meeting a good friend in time of misfortune. The above is an abbreviation. The full proverb is, Jigoku dé hotoké hotoke ni ōta yo da.
[32] A proverb in perfect accord with the higher Buddhism.
[33] Meaning that even those obliged to live in hell must learn to accommodate themselves to the situation. One should always try to make the best of circumstances. A proverb of kindred signification is, Sumeba, Miyako: “Wheresoever ones home is, that is the Capital [or, imperial City].”
[34] Referring to the doctrine of cause-and-effect. Compare with verse 2 of the Dhammapada.
[35] Amitâbha, the Buddha of Immeasurable Light. His image in the temples is usually gilded from head to foot.—There are many other ironical proverbs about the power of wealth,—such as Jigoku no sata mo kané shidai: “Even the Judgments of Hell may be influenced by money.”
[36] Emma is the Chinese and Japanese Yama,—in Buddhism the Lord of Hell, and the Judge of the Dead. The proverb is best explained by the accompanying drawings, which will serve to give an idea of the commoner representations of both divinities.
[37] Rumor is never trustworthy.
[38] Or “mind.” That is to say that we suffer only from the consequences of our own faults.—The demon-torturer in the Buddhist hell says to his victim:—“Blame not me!—I am only the creation of your own deeds and thoughts: you made me for this!”—Compare with No. 36.
[39] “This world is but a travellers’ inn,” would be an almost equally correct translation. Yado literally means a lodging, shelter, inn; and the word is applied often to those wayside resting-houses at which Japanese travellers halt during a journey. Kari signifies temporary, transient, fleeting,—as in the common Buddhist saying, Kono yo kari no yo: “This world is a fleeting world.” Even Heaven and Hell represent to the Buddhist only halting places upon the journey to Nirvâna.
[40] Refers to the vanity of selfish effort for some merely temporary end.
