Page:The Spirit of Japanese Poetry (Noguchi).djvu/73

Priest.

"See the tremor of the cup of the flower, as if it fears to exist;

Oh, bareness of beauty that has soared out of life;
Is it a real morning-glory?
Is it not only imagination or pain itself?
I hear in its tremor a certain human speech, but voiceless.
What a mystery, what mournfulness, what tragic thrill!
I am a priest for whom stones and grasses prepare a nightly bed,
A companion of water, trees, stars, and night;
Here will I sleep and solve the mystery with the power of prayer.
Oh, flower, whatever name thou bearest, take me this night as thy guest."

(The villager goes out. It becomes dark; the first
night-bell rings. The priest recites the holy
words. The lady enters as a waft of autumnal
wind.)

Lady.

"How my heart burns in madness and pain:

Oh, misery to be a prey to fire and unrest!
I am a wandering spirit of discontent from Hades,
After the Life that ascends, the Life of whiteness and the sun;
Oh, my hatred of dissolution and death!"

Priest.

"Who art thou, lady? Thou seemest to be a soul dead, but not dead,

Cursor of Nirvana, straying soul of unrest."

Lady.

"Father, I am the spirit of the Morning-Glory."