Narrator: He swiftly draws out his dagger.
Tokubei: The moment has come. Namu Amida. Namu Amida.
Narrator: 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.
Tokubei: Namu Amida. Namu Amida. Namu Amida Butsu.
Narrator: 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.
Tokubei: Am I going to lag on after you? Let’s draw our last breaths together.
Narrator: 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.[1]
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.
Translated by Donald Keene
- ↑ It was believed that the spirit left the body as the tide went out.
