Dez Noites de Sonho

8/6/2019 Dez Noites de Sonho

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The First Dream:

(video byHANAFUBUKI)

This is the dream I dreamed.

As I was sitting with my arms folded by her pillow, the woman lying onher back said in a quiet voice that she would die. Her long hair covered

the pillow and the soft outline of her oval face lay down inside it. Deepin her pure white cheeks was a slight flush the color of warm blood.

The color of her lips was, of course, red. She didn't possibly look like

she could die. But clearly, she had said in that quiet voice that shewould soon die. Naturally I thought, don't die. Then I peered down intoher from above and asked, is that so? You're going to die soon?

I will die, she said as she opened her eyes wide. They were large,moist eyes. Wrapped in long lashes was a mere surface of pure black.In the depths of those pure black pupils my form floated vividly.

I gazed at the luster of those dark pupils, so deep they were almost

transparent, and thought, even so, could she die?Gently, I brought mylips to the side of her pillow and said, I don't think you're going to die.I'm sure everything's fine. Her sleepy black eyes opened wide, shethen said in that same quiet voice, but I will die, there's no escaping it.

Can you see my face then?I asked intensely. Can I see? There, inthere, it's being reflected, isn't it?she said, showing me her smile. Ifell quiet, and withdrew my face from her pillow. With my arms folded,

I wondered if she would die after all.

After a time she again spoke.

When I die, please bury me. Dig a hole with a large oyster shell. Thentake a fragment of a star that has fallen from heaven and place it as agrave marker. And then, please, wait by my grave because I will comeback to see you.

I asked her when she would come back.

The sun rises, doesn't it? And then it sets. And doesn't it then rise andset again the red sun while it goes from east to west? Can you waitwhile it falls from east to west?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtJtK-99y80http://www.youtube.com/user/HANAFUBUKIhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtJtK-99y80http://www.youtube.com/user/HANAFUBUKI


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I said nothing and nodded.

The quiet tone of her voice rose and she boldly said,please wait onehundred years.

Please sit and wait by my grave for one hundred years, for without failI will come back to see you.

I'll just be waiting, I replied. Then the form that I saw clearly in herblack pupils started to faintly come apart. Like still water that movesand disturbs a reflection, she thought it would leak out and snapped

her eyes shut. From between her long eyelashes tears trickled downher cheek: she had died.

After that I descended to the garden and dug a hole with an oystershell. It was a large shell, with a smooth, sharp edge. With each scoop

light from the moon would sparkle on the back of the shell. There wasalso the smell of moist earth. A hole was hollowed out after some

time. I put her in there. Then I gently scattered soft earth from above.Each time I scattered the earth, light from the moon shone on the

back of the oyster shell.

Then I picked up a fragment of star that had fallen and gently set it on

top of the earth. The fragment was round. When it had fallen throughthe heavens, I thought, the corners must have come off and it became

smooth. While I was lifting it up in my arms and placing it on top ofthe earth my chest and hands became a little warmer.

I sat on moss. I folded my arms and stared at the round grave stone,all the while thinking about how I would be waiting like this for the

next hundred years. Soon, just like she had said, the sun appeared

from the east. It was a large, red sun. And again, just like she hadsaid, it soon fell to the west. Just as red, it suddenly fell away. I

counted one.

I waited a while and again the crimson sun slowly started to rise. Thenit quietly sank. Again I counted, two.

I wasn't sure how many times I saw the red sun while I was countingone and two this way. A nearly inexhaustible number of red suns

passed over my head no matter how many I counted. But even so, ahundred years would still not come. At last, I stared at the round rock

covered in moss, and the thought that she might have deceived me


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came to mind.

Just then, from under the rock, a green stem started to stretch outdiagonally toward me. I watched as it grew longer, until it stopped

around my chest. I thought it had stopped, but at the top of the

smoothly swaying stem, a single long, thin bud, slightly bent, softlyopened its petals. A pure white lily at the tip of my nose gave off a

fragrance that seeped into my bones. From far above dewdrops fell,causing the flower to waver unsteadily under its own weight. I moved

my head forward and kissed the white petals dripping wet with cool

dew. At the moment I pulled my face from the lily, unthinking, I lookedat the distant sky and a single morning star was twinkling.

This was the moment I first realized that one hundred years had finally

passed.

The SecondDream:


I had left the priest's room, and when I returned to my room via thepassageway, the paper lantern was burning faintly. I fell to a cushion

on one knee and when I poked at the wick, a flower-like clovesuddenly fell to the vermilion-lacquered stand. At the same time theroom burst into light.

The painting on the sliding screen door was Buson's work. Here and

there black willow trees were drawn with shades of light and dark, a

cold looking fisherman with his bamboo hat askew was passing alongthe top of an embankment. A scroll ofMonju Crossing the Sea was

hanging in the alcove. The dark portion of the burnt remains of incensewas still fragrant. The temple was large, so it was silent and deserted.

As I looked up, the round shadow from the round paper lantern that

shone on the black ceiling looked almost alive.

I sat with one knee upright and flipped the cushion over with my lefthand. When I thrust my right hand into the cushion it was right where

I thought it would be. If it was there it was a relief, so I put thecushion back and sat on it heavily.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yosa_Busonhttp://www.aisf.or.jp/~jaanus/deta/m/monju.htmhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yosa_Busonhttp://www.aisf.or.jp/~jaanus/deta/m/monju.htm


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You are a samurai. There should be no reason why a samurai can'tattain enlightenment, the priest said. So if you try to carry that part ofyou that can't reach enlightenment forever, you must not be asamurai. You're human waste, ha ha, you're mad, he said with alaugh. If you regret it then bring back proof that you're enlightened,

he said and abruptly turned his back to me. It was insulting.

I would surely reach enlightenment before the clock set in the alcovein the neighboring hall

strikes the next hour. After I was enlightened, tonight, I would again

enter the priest's room to be educated. Then, I would exchangeenlightenment with his neck. If I wasn't enlightened then I couldn't

take his life. I had to become enlightened at any cost. I am a samurai.

If I couldn't become enlightened I would commit suicide with my

sword. There can be no meaning in living for a samurai that has beenhumiliated. I would die beautifully.

When I thought this my hand went again, unconsciously, under the

cushion. I pulled out a dagger with a vermilion scabbard. I gripped thehandle tightly. When I drew the scabbard off, the cool edge of the

blade lit up the room at once. It made me think that some amazing

thing was escaping from my hand. It would all gather at the tip of myblade, my thirst for blood concentrated into a single point. I looked at

the sharp edge, unfortunately shrunken like the head of a needle,down twelve inches to where it inevitably came to point, and suddenly,

I wanted to stab. My body's blood started to flow to my right wrist andthe handle became slimy. My lips quivered.

I put the dagger back in its scabbard and fixed it to my right side.Then I sat in the Lotus position the Zen masterZhaozhou had said,nothing. What is nothing? Damn priest! I said gnashing my teeth.

Since I was strongly clenching my teeth, I violently exhaled hot breath

from my nose. My temples cramped and hurt. My eyes opened at leasttwice as large as normal.

I could see the hanging scroll. I could see the paper lantern. I couldsee the tatami. I could vividly see the priest's bald-kettle-head. I could

even hear his sneering voice from his fat open mouth. Insulting priest!I must remove that kettle-head at all cost. I'd enlighten him! Nothing,nothing, I recited from the root of my tongue. And in spite of nothingthe incense still smelled. Hateful incense!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhaozhouhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhaozhou


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I suddenly clenched my fist and hit myself in the head terribly hard.Then I gnashed my teeth. Sweat poured from my armpits. My back

became like a rod. My knee joints suddenly became painful. Iwondered what I would do if my knees broke. But it hurt. It was

painful. Nothing wouldn't come. When I thought nothing would come,

it instantly became agony. I was getting angry. I was vexed. I wasbecoming extremely frustrated. Tears fell from my eyes. Once and for

all, I wanted to throw my body onto a large rock, and smash my fleshand bones to pieces.

Yet I endured and sat still. I endured while an almost unbearablesadness filled my chest. That sadness was lifting up the muscles of my

body and hurried to try to blow out of my pores. But it was completelyblocked. It was like being in a state of the most extreme cruelty

without escape.

While that was happening my head became strange. The paper lanternand Buson's painting, the tatami and the staggered shelves lookedthere and not there, I could see them not there and there. But nothingdidn't appear at all. It was like I had just sat there half-assed. Then,

all of a sudden, the clock in the next room started to chime.

I was startled. My hand went instantly to my dagger. The clock chimed

a second time.

The Third Dream:


I was carrying a child of six on my back. I'm sure it was my child.Only, the strange thing was, before I realized it he was blind with a

freshly shaven head. When I asked, when did you lose your sight? hereplied, what? Long ago. There's no doubt that voice was a child's, buthe spoke like he was an adult. Like an equal.

Green rice paddies were to the left and right. The road was narrow.

The fleeting shadows of herons could be seen in the darkness.

We've started toward the rice paddies, haven't we? he said on myback.

I turned my face to the rear and asked, how do you know?


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Aren't the herons crying? he answered.

Sure enough, when he said that, they cried out twice.

Although he was my own child, I became a little frightened. With himon my back I didn't know what would happen from here on. I

wondered if there weren't some place I could just abandon him. WhenI looked out into the darkness and I could see a large forest. Just as I

started to think, if over there, a voice going, hee hee came from myback.

What are you laughing at?

He didn't answer. All I heard was, father, am I heavy?

You're not heavy, I replied.

Soon I'll become heavy.

I kept quiet and, with the forest as my guide, walked toward it. The

road in the rice fields twisted irregularly. We couldn't exit as easily as I

had thought. After a while the path forked. I stood at the split in theroad and rested.

The boy said, there should be a stone standing here.

Sure enough, an eight inch square stone stood about waist high.Written on the face, left Higakubo, right Hottahara. I could clearly seethose red letters in spite of the darkness. They were like the red colorof a newt's belly.

Left will be fine, the boy ordered. When I looked left the forest wasstarting to cast dark shadows from the sky over our heads. I hesitated

a little.

The boy added, you don't need to hold back. Helplessly I startedwalking toward the forest. I was thinking that the boy seemed to knoweverything, even though he was blind. When the single road

approached the forest, he said on my back, being blind is a realinconvenience.

"But it's okay, because I'm carrying you."


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trousers and a pale yellow sleeveless coat. Only his socks were yellow.They looked, somehow, like they were made from leather.

The old man went straight until he was under the willow tree. Three or

four children were under there. Laughing, he pulled a pale yellow hand

towel from his waist. It had been twisted long and thin like paperstring. He placed it on the ground, and then he drew a large, round

ring around the hand towel. Finally, from the box hanging from hisshoulder, he pulled out a candy seller's flute made of brass.

Let's keep looking, let's keep looking, soon the towel will become asnake, he repeatedly said.

The children watched the towel determinedly. I also watched.

Let's keep looking, let's keep looking, okay? he said while he blew onthe flute, and he started going round and round the ring. I looked only

at the towel. But it didn't move at all.

The old man whistled on his flute, and over and over he went aroundthe ring. He went around like he was standing on the tips of his straw

sandals, like he was walking on his tiptoes, like he was being

deferential to the towel. It looked frightening. It also lookedinteresting.

Before long the old man abruptly stopped playing the flute. He opened

the lid of the box hanging from his shoulder, picked up the neck of thetowel slightly in his fingers, and threw it in.

If I put it in, it'll become a snake inside the box. I'll show you soon. I'llshow you soon, he was saying as he started walking straight. Hepassed under the willow tree and went down to a narrow road. I

wanted to see the snake, so I followed him to wherever the road ledto. Now and then, the old man said as he walked, soon it'll happen,and it'll become a snake.

In the end, as he was singing, soon it'll happen, it'll become a snake,it surely will, my flute will sing, we finally came to the shore of theriver. Since there were no bridges or boats, I thought we might rest

here and he would show me the snake in the box. The old man startedto splash into the river. At first the water was only as deep as his

knees, but then quickly from his waist, up to his chest, he becamesubmerged and harder to see.


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But even then, while he was singing, it's getting deep, it's turningnight, it's becoming straight, he walked straight to wherever. Then hisbeard, and his face, and his head, and his hood completelydisappeared from sight.

I thought the old man would show me the snake when he came up onthe opposite shore. He would be standing where the reeds rustled,

waiting alone forever. But in the end, the old man never came up.

The Fifth Dream:


Probably a very long time ago, I can imagine it being in antiquity near

the age of the gods, I was warring. Because our luck went bad and welost, I was captured, and made to sit in front of the enemy general.

Everyone in that time was tall. And they were all growing long beards.He had on a leather belt with a club-like sword suspended from it. His

bow looked like a fat piece of wisteria that had been used as-is. If itwasn't lacquered, it also hadn't been polished. It was very austere.

The enemy general was sitting on something that looked like an upsidedown clay pot. He had pushed the bow into the grass, and his right

hand was gripping the middle of it. When I looked at his face, above

his nose, his left and right eyebrows were thickly connected. At thattime, naturally, there wasn't anything like a razor.

I couldn't sit on a chair since I was a prisoner. I sat cross-legged on

the grass. I was wearing large straw boots on my feet. The straw boots

of this time were very long. When you stood they came up to yourknee. At the tops of the boots, bits of straw were left over from the

weaving, and they hung down like tassels. They were a decoration,

each strand made to move separately when you walked.

The general looked at my face by the campfire and asked if I wouldlive or die. It was the custom of the age to ask every prisoner that. If

you answered to live it meant you had surrendered, to die meant youdid not surrender. I replied in one word, Death. The general pitched his

bow, which had been stuck in the grass, behind him, and started to

slip out the club-like sword hanging from his waist. The fire, bent by


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tumbled directly forward. Below the crag, there was a deep abyss.

The imprint of the horse's hooves is still left on top of the crag. Thething that impersonated a crying bird is a devil. While the imprint of

the hooves was being etched into the rock, the devil was my enemy.

The Sixth Dream:

I had heard the great Unkeiwas carving the figures of the two TempleGuardians, the ancient Ni, at the main gate ofKokoku Temple, so Iwalked out to see it. There were many people already there before me

all talking about the project.

Before the main gate stood a red pine tree five or six ken high,spreading its branches out against the blue sky far above at an anglethat partially screened its roof. The green of the pine tree and the

vermilion of the lacquered gate reflected each other in beautifulharmony. The tree was well placed so that one heavy branch extended

obliquely to avoid blocking the left side of the gate. It seemed

somehow old-fashioned to let the branch stick out over the roof thatway. It could have been the Kamakura period.

However, the people looking at it, including me, were of the Meijiera.Most of them were rickshaw drivers. They must have been standing

there because they were tired of waiting for passengers.

One said, that's what I call big!

That must be harder than it takes to make a man, said another.

Still another said, do they still carve the Ni nowadays? I thought thatwas all way back when.

It looks plenty strong all right. They say there was never anyone as

strong as the Ni. They say they were even stronger than Yamato-takeru-no-mikoto, that ancestor god of the Emperor himself. Thisspeaker with his kimono tucked in was not wearing a hat. He seemedsomehow uncultured.

Unkeiwas working with his chisel and hammer, unconcerned about hisreputation among the onlookers. He never turned to look at them.

Perched on his high place he went on carving the first Ni.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unkeihttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://zen.rinnou.net/head_temples/15kokutai.htmlhttp://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2133.htmlhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meiji_periodhttp://www.man-pai.com/Room3/emc036_e.htmhttp://www.man-pai.com/Room3/emc036_e.htmhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unkeihttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niohttp://zen.rinnou.net/head_temples/15kokutai.htmlhttp://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2133.htmlhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meiji_periodhttp://www.man-pai.com/Room3/emc036_e.htmhttp://www.man-pai.com/Room3/emc036_e.htm


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Unkeiwas wearing the strange headgear of a bygone era and had hissleeves tied across his back. Anyway, his whole aspect was that ofanother age. He seemed to be ill-matched with his noisy audience. It

was strange to be watching him there. I wondered why he was still

alive in this modern period.

Unkei, however, was carving away as if everything were absolutelynormal. A young man who was looking up at him turned to me and

began extolling his work, saying, he is great. We are beneath hisnotice. He seems to be telling us that he and the Ni are the world'sonly heroes. He is splendid.

I thought that his words were interesting. I glanced at him and he said

at once, look how he uses his chisel and hammer. That's exquisitemastery.

He was now carving the Ni's eyebrow a sun sideways and in theprecise instant that he turned over the blade of the chisel, he brought

the hammer down. He planed the hard wood and thick shavings flewwith the sound of the hammer as the side of an angry noise emerged.

He seemed to have an unconcerned way of working, yet his hand was

perfectly sure.

He uses the chisel in such an offhand manner. How can he make theeyebrow and the nose the way he wants? I was so impressed that I

began talking to myself. No, the young man at my side observed. Hedoesn't do it with his chisel. All he does is just dig out the eyebrowsand nose already buried in the wood. It's like digging stones out of theground. He cannot make a mistake.

What a discovery. So this is what sculpture is! It occurred to me that if

that is all there is to it, anybody can do it. I suddenly longed to make astatue of the Ni for myself, so I went home there and then.

I got the chisel and hammer out of my toolbox. In the backyard there

was a large stack of oak wood, already saved for firewood after arecent storm had scattered tree branches about.

I chose the biggest one and began to cave it vigorously, butunfortunately I couldn't seem to find the Ni. I couldn't find one in thenext piece, either. Nor was it in the third. I caved in the stacked woodpiece after piece, and in none was hidden the Ni. At last I had toaccept the fact that the Ni does not reside in the wood of the Meiji


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period. I also learned the reason why Unkeiis alive today.

The Seventh Dream:

I find myself on board an extraordinarily big ship.

The ship steams against the waves emitting black smoke continuously

and making a deafening noise. The trouble is, I have no idea where

the ship is heading. The sun, reflecting like burning tongs, seems tocome from beneath the waves. I see the sun motionless above the tall

mast for a time, but in the next moment it passes the big ship andfinally disappears again into the depths, sputtering on the water as

though the burning tongs had been suddenly dropped there. Each time

this happens, blue waves turn blackish-red far beyond and the ship

makes a terrible noise in a vain chase after the sun's traces.

Once I got hold of a crewman on deck. Is this ship heading west?

The man glared at me for a moment. Why? he finally asked.

Because the ship seems to be running after the setting sun, I replied.

The man gave a loud, amused laugh and went off. I heard the strainsof a sea shanty:

Is the Sun heading East? It may be, Ho!Is its home in the West? Don't ask me, Ho!It's a sailor I am and belong to the waves;My ship is my home and ever I roam,Sail on, sail on, sail on, Ho!

I came to the forecastle deck and found a crowd of sailors hauling thebig jib rope.

I felt completely lost, abandoned. I had no idea when I would be able

to get off this ship. I didn't even know where it was heading. I wasonly sure the ship was steaming against the waves, emitting its blacksmoke. The waves were fairly high and looked infinitely blue. The

water sometimes turned purple, but white foam was always beingblown back in the ship's wake. I felt completely lost. I thought of

jumping into the sea to my death rather than staying on this ship.


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There was a lot of company on board. Most people looked foreign, withvery different types of features. As the ship pitched in the heavy,

cloudy weather, I found a woman leaning against the rail, cryingunceasingly. The handkerchief she used to wipe her tears looked white,

I saw, but she wore printed Western clothes, probably cotton. When I

looked at her I realized that I was not the only one who was sad.

One night when I was alone on deck watching the stars, a foreignercame up and asked me if I knew any astronomy. Here I was almost

ready to kill myself as a non-entity. What did I need to know about

astronomy? But I kept silent. The foreign man began to tell me aboutthe seven stars over Taurus. He said that the stars and the sea were

something God had created. Finally he asked me if I believed in God. Ikept silent, looking up at the sky.

Going into the saloon one time, I saw a young woman dressed inflashy clothes. She had her back to me and was playing the piano.

Beside her was a tall, fine gentleman singing a song. His mouth lookedenormous. Anyway, the man and the woman appeared to be entirely

indifferent to every one but each other. They even seemed to haveforgotten that they were on a ship.

I found myself getting more and more unhappy. In the end I decided Iwould kill myself. One night when there was no one about, I ventured

to throw myself into the sea, but just as my feet left the deck and mytie with the ship was severed, I wished from the bottom of my heart

that I had not done this thing, but it was too late. I had to enter thesea whether I liked it or not. The ship was so tall that although I wasphysically parted from it, my feet would not touch the water that

quickly, but with nothing to hold on to, it was getting closer and closer.However tightly I curled my legs under me, it was useless. The water

was black.

The ship passed me, trailing its perpetual black smoke. I realized that

it would have been better for me to stay on board even withoutknowing where the ship was bound, but I was unable to put this new

wisdom to any practical use. I feel deep into the black waves quietly,with infinite regret and fear.

The Eighth Dream:


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As I crossed the threshold into the barber shop, I saw several people

there, all dressed in white, who asked in chorus if they might help me.

I stood in the middle of the room, looking around. It was square. The

windows on two sides were open and on the two other walls hungmirrors. I counted six mirrors.

I went to one of the mirrors and eased myself deep into a facing chair,

which wheezed pleasantly as my body sank into it. It was quite a

comfortable piece of furniture to recline in. I saw my face resplendentin the mirror. Behind it there was reflected a window and slantwise I

could see the lattice-work that separated the cashier's counter fromthe rest of the shop. Behind it there was no one to be seen. Outside

the window I could see reflected clearly the upper-halves of the

passers-by.

Shotarou walked by with a woman. He had bought a panama hatwhich we all took no notice of, and he was wearing it. I wonder when

he met that woman. I have no idea of such things. Both of themlooked proud of being seen together. I wanted to have a close look at

the woman's face, but I missed my chance as they had already passed

by.

A soybean-curd maker passed blowing on his horn, his lips on themouth-piece, his cheeks puffed out as if he had been stung by a

swarm of bees. I could not help worrying about the man and his puffedcheeks. It looked as though he had spent his whole life being stung bybees.

A geisha came up. She had not yet out on her make-up. Her hair was

done up in a loose root ofshimada knot, which made it look wobbly ontop. She looked sleepy, too. A pity her complexion was so extremelybad. She made a bow and introduced herself to someone, but the

person was out of range of the window.

Then a big fellow dressed in white stepped up behind me with a pair ofscissors and a comb in his hands and began to scrutinize my face.Twisting my thin mustache, I asked him if anything could be done with

it. The man I white made no answer, patting my head with the darkbrown comb.

I said, listen, aside from the matter of my head, will this mustacheever amount to anything? Still without a word he began to snip at my


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the gingko tree leads one to a toriiarch of stone, the gateway to ashrine a hundred meters beyond. With rice fields on one side and a low

patch of dwarf bamboo on the other, one reaches the torii. Beyond the

toriiis a clump of black cedars. Walking alone the stone-paved path foranother forty meters, one comes upon the stairs leading to the old

shrine. Above the offertory box, weathered gray by the sun and rain, apull-rope hangs down from the big wishing bell. In the daytime, one

can see the wooden plaque inscribed with the name Hachiman-guu,the shrine of the god of war. The Japanese figure hachi(eight) iscuriously formed, like two doves beak to beak. Nearby there are

framed pictures, mostly records of famous marksmen and theirprowess with the arrow, plus an occasional sword, in dedication to the

shrine.

Every time when the child passes through the torii, it can hear an owl

hooting in the top of a cedar. The child also hears the slap-slap of themother's straw sandals on the paving stones. Then the sound stops as

she rings the wishing bell and stoops down to clap her hands in theritual way. Even the owl stops hooting. Then the mother prays to the

gods with all her heart for her husband's safety. She has no doubt that

Hachiman, the god of bow and arrow, will not leave unanswered herurgent prayer for her warrior husband.

At the sound of the bell the sleeping child often wakes up, and looks

around, startled. Then it starts to cry on the mother's back, there inthe darkness. She dandles the child, still murmuring her prayer. At

times the crying stops, but sometimes it continues, loud and terrible.But the mother does not yet stand up.

On finishing her prayer at last, she walks up to the holly place, untiesthe narrow obi and slides the baby around from her back into her

arms. She rubs her check tightly against the child's, saying, you'resuch a good baby. Wait here for a moment. After straightening out thetangles in the narrow obi, the mother ties one end around the child'swaist and the other to the balustrade of the oratory. Then she goesdown the stairs and paces back and forth a hundred times along the

40-metre stone-paved path, offering prayers.

It is lucky for the mother that her child, tied to the balustrade, can

creep around the terrace of the oratory as far as the obireaches. If thechild sets up a cry, she tries to finish the prescribed hundred prayers

quickly in her anxiety, but she loses her breath. When there is no otherway, she interrupts herself, climbs up to the oratory where she hushes

the child, and then starts over again from the beginning.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsurugaoka_Hachiman_Shrinehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsurugaoka_Hachiman_Shrine


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The father, whose safety the mother is so concerned about each night,

has already been killed by a lordless warrior.

Such is the sad story that I heard from my mother in my dream.

The Tenth Dream:

Ken-san came to tell me that Shoutarou unexpectedly came home thatnight, seven days after he had been taken off by a woman, and that,

his temperature having risen suddenly, he is sick in bed.

Shoutarou is the best-looking young man in our neighborhood and an

extremely honest fellow, but he has a favorite pastime that may strikeone as odd. When evening comes, he puts on his Panama hat, sits at

the door of the fruit shop and looks at the faces of the passing women,which never fail to entertain him. He never seems to want to do

anything else.

When there are few women on the street, he turns to look at the fruit

instead. All kinds of fruit. Peaches, apples, Japanese fruits, andbananas are beautifully served in baskets, arranged in two rows, so

that the customer can easily select one for a present. Shoutarou looksat these baskets and says that they are beautiful. He also says that if

he were ever to enter a trade, a fruit shop would be just the thing forhim. Nevertheless, he just sits there in his Panama hat and idles histime away.

Occasionally he comments on the fruit, saying the color of that

Chinese citron, for example, is nice. Yet he has never bought any fruit,

nor does he eat any free. He just extols the color.

That evening a woman had unexpectedly stopped at the entrance ofthe store. Judging from what she was wearing, she seemed to be a

woman of quality. The color of her clothing caught Shoutarou's fancy.And her face, too, had a quality he found attractive, so Shoutarousaluted her in a courtly way by taking off his precious Panama hat.

Then the woman pointed to the largest basket of fruit and asked himfor it. Shoutarou quickly took it and handed it to her. When she tried tolift the basket, she remarked that it was a bit heavy for her.

As he was a man of leisure and very open-hearted by nature,


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Shoutarou offered to carry the basket to her house, and they left theshop together. He had been away ever since.

Easygoing as he always had been, this was going too far. While his

friends and relatives were fretting over what they thought as quite

serious, Shoutarou suddenly came back on the night of the seventhday after he had gone away. People crowded around him and asked,

where have you been, Shou-san? He merely replied that he had takena train to the mountains.

It must have been a long train ride. According to what Shoutarou said,on getting off the train, he and the woman had come to a field. It was

quite a large field, and wherever you looked, you could see only greengrass. Walking along the grass they suddenly came to the top of a

huge precipice. Then the woman invited Shoutarou to jump off.Peering down, he could see the wall all right, but the bottom of it wastoo deep down to make out. Shoutarou, doffing his Panama hat,politely declined, again and again. The woman asked him whether hepreferred to be licked by pigs, since he would not venture to jump off

the precipice. Now Shoutarou hated pigs and Kumoemon the balladeervery much, but he thought that even not saving himself from either of

these was worth the price of his life, and so he could not bring himself

to jump. Then a pig came grunting along. Shoutarou reluctantly hit thepig on its snout with a thin stick of a betel palm. Giving a yelp, the pig

tumbled down to the bottom of the cliff. While Shoutarou was stillbreathing a sigh of relief, another pig came towards him, rubbing him

with its large snout. Shoutarou reluctantly swung the stick. With ayelp, the pig followed the first headlong down to the precipice. Then athird pig appeared. At that moment Shoutarou raised his eyes todiscover, on the horizon where the green field ended, tens ofthousands of grunting pigs trotting straight at him. He was terrified,

but he could not stop tapping the snout of each pig one by one,

gingerly, with the betel palm stick. Surprisingly, only a light touch ofthe stick to each snout sent the pigs easily over the cliff. Looking over

the edge, he could see the pigs in an endless line, tumbling headfirstinto the bottomless valley below. Thinking how many pigs he had

dispatched to the bottom, Shoutarou began to feel afraid, and still thepigs came on and on and on. Like a swarming black cloud which hadgrown legs, continuously grunting, the pigs thrust their vigorous way

through the green grass towards him, in a never-ending horde,.

Shoutarou had tried desperately to keep up his courage, and for sevendays and six nights he had gone on tapping pig snouts, until his arms

got weak as a konniaku jelly. Then one pig finally succeeded in licking
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tochuken_Kumoemonhttp://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k6jbr-AWY7E/SYzzQ_bBc5I/AAAAAAAAGrA/HWvT5C7GlBY/s1600-h/The+Tenth+Dream+-+konniaku+jelly.JPGhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tochuken_Kumoemonhttp://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k6jbr-AWY7E/SYzzQ_bBc5I/AAAAAAAAGrA/HWvT5C7GlBY/s1600-h/The+Tenth+Dream+-+konniaku+jelly.JPG


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him, and in the end, Shoutarou collapsed.

Ken-san told me that story ofShoutarou and advised me not to staretoo much at the women. He is right, too, I find. Ken-san alsomentioned that he would like to own Shoutarou's Panama hat.

It seems Shoutarou will not be saved. His Panama hat will be given toKen-san.

Dez Noites de Sonho

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