Potiphar's Wife and Other Poems/The "No" Dance
THE "NO" DANCE
Yamada San said: "Come, and see the 'No'—
Those songs and dances of our old Japan:—
They make the ancient music faithfully
This evening at my Lord the Governor's;
You shall be honorably pleased. What best
Kyoto boasts of geishas will be there,
With Nara's koto-player; Haru San
To beat the drum. O Yuki San's the Boy;
O Tsuru plays the Fairy in first dance—
The 'Feather Dress.'"
So to the Governor's
That evening, through the lanes of lamps, we went.
And, when the feast was ended on the mats—
Three sides of a full square of friendliness,
The stage the fourth:—and each guest, well-content,
Hemmed in with twenty little lacquered bowls
Showed like a ship at moorings, with the boats
Clustering around; and black-haired musumees
Brimmed the last sakë cup, and gohan came,
The silvered shoji, decked with maple leaves,
Opened a space, to let the music in,—
Two samisens, a double drum, a flute,
Then, with low reverences, the "No" began.
So saw we,—after many preludings
Of string and skin,—O Yuki San pace forth
A fisherman. No chance to err herein,
Seeing she bore the net and balanced tubs,
And great brass knife to slice the tara thin,
All as you note them at Enoshima.
Moreover, fan in hand, she sings a song
To tell us how her name's Hakuriyô,
Her dwelling Miwo's pine-grove, and her life
A fisher-lad's, reaping the deep green sea
For silver harvests of the silly shoals
Which, caught by hundreds, come in thousands more
To the spread mesh. Mighty the draught will be—
So chants the Sea-boy, sauntering from his boat—
Now the cold rains are over, and the sky
Round about Fuji's head glows pearl and gold:
With, high above the hardly rippling waves,
Yon gilded sickle of the new-made Moon
Leading the pale lamp of the Evening Star
Attendant, like some heavenly Musume.
"Oh, at a Spring-tide so delectable,
With purple iris fringing all the rice
And fiery lilies flaming in the rye,
The air so soft, the pines whispering so low,
The dragon-flies, like fairy spears of steel
Darting or poised, the velvet butterflies
Fluttering to sip the last sweets of the rape
Before the great Sun goes,—at such an hour
The Gods themselves might come awhile to Earth"—
So sings young Hakuriyô.
And, behold!
Suddenly—hanging on a branch of fir—
A wondrous sight he spies! The samisens
Twangle surprise, the drums beat Hê-hê-hê,
While Yuki San, a-tiptoe, reaches down
A many-tinctured, fairy-patterned robe—
All gold and scarlet and celestial white—
Of feathers wove, but feathers of such birds
As surely never perched on earthly tree!
The lining shot with airy tender tints
As of a broken rainbow. Glad he scans
The strange bright treasure-trove. Another such
Suruga never saw!—Narumi's looms
Never dreamed such a marvel! Light of heart
Into his hut dances Hakuriyô.
Casting the nets aside to clasp the robe.
Next,—very softly trill the samisens,
The drums beat muted, and the flute pipes forth
Expectant tones, while—light as falling snow
Or breath of morning breeze, whispering its way
Through the awakening maple-leaves—glides in
A Heavenly Fairy! 'Tis O Tsuru San:
And neck, breast, slender little amber limbs
Are bare as the brown sea-sand: just one cloth
Tied with a sky-blue string about the waist
Half covers her. Sweetly and movingly
At the hut-door she sings: "Oh, thou within
That hast my robe of feathers! Open now
And give what is not thine, but only mine!"
Then see we (kneeling watchful on the mats)
O Yuki San come tripping from the hut
Clasping the feather dress. But when she marks
O Tsuru San bowing before the door
Look how she stands—Yuki the Fisher Lad—
Out of his wits with well-shown wonderment!
So beautiful the dark-eyed weeper is
Unclad, and pleading with those lovely tears.
Down on his face falls young Hakuriyô
And thus they talk, with samisens to help:
She.
"Fisher-boy! give back to me
The dress I hanged upon the tree!"
He.
"Oh thou! well-clad in beauty bright!
Form of glory, face of light!
Honorably deign to tell
Where such charms celestial dwell.
What thy name, august, may be,
Fairest! first reveal to me!"
She.
"I am come from Heaven's domain:
If I spoke it ne'er so plain
You my name could never hear
As the Angels say it there.
Flying past your little star,
All so fair it looked, afar—
Silvery sea and snow-tipped hill—
That I had an idle will
Once to set my foolish feet
On those flowers that shone so sweet.
So I laid my robe aside
In the tree which you espied:
And, without it—shame and woe!
To my home I cannot go!"
He.
"Loveliest Lady! little mind
Had I, at the first, my find
Ever to surrender. Now
When you deign to tell me how.
If I keep it, you must stay,
No more for your garment pray!"
She.
"Ah! why did I quit my sky
Where yon happy sea-birds fly,
And the wild swan spreads her wings
While the wind between them sings;
And the free storks urge their flight
Strong across the spangled night?
Render back my robe, and soon
I shall soar beyond the Moon,
Thread the star-paths, and pursue
Light and life beyond the blue.
Mortal! 'tis impiety
Not to give mine own to me!"
He.
"Always I would have you here,
Fairy! bright, and sweet, and dear.
Will you not, for love of love
Let go longing for above?
I would let go all but life
If I might but make you wife!"
She.
"Fisher-boy! this sea of thine
Maddens thee with mighty wine!
Fair thou art: yet thou and I
Are as is the sea and sky,
Which may meet but cannot marry;
If, for love of you, I'd tarry,
'Twere as though a cloud should wed
With some hill-top. Soft night sped
Lone the hill rises. Touch my hand
And better shalt thou understand."
He.
"I cannot take it! Plain I see
The soft, smooth skin, so velvety,
Of hand and wrist! Yet, when I clasp,
It is a mist melts in my grasp.
Now, I would give you back this dress
If you will change such loveliness
To solid flesh, not floating air,
Oh, thou than living flesh more fair!"
She.
"Peace! most foolish boy and fond!
I am what those are beyond;
More substantial, didst thou know,
Than this flesh and blood below.
Give me back the robe whereby
I may once more reach my sky,
And, for deed of gentilesse,
When I don again my dress,
I will dance, to do thee pleasure,
One round of our heavenly measure;
I will sing, to comfort thee,
One strain of the melody
Heard by souls divine, in sphere
Where the Light is lovelier!"
He.
"Ah! to see you fly I dread
When I yield this wonder! Tread
First your measure, Lady sweet!
Then I place it at your feet."
She.
"Shame upon thee! I have heard
Men will break a plighted word,
But with us this is not so!
All unveiled the Spirits go;
And nay is nay, and yes is yes:
I dance not else! Give me the dress!"
Then see we Hakuriyô, blushing deep,
Lay at her foot the golden-feathered gown
Alight with silvery white and scarlet fires.
And while the samisens make chords of joy
O Tsuru kneels, and gathers wistfully
The shining marvel round her shoulders: laughs
For pleasure to be safe re-plumed: then glides—
With voice of melting notes, and paces fair
Falling as light as fir-cones, to the dance:
She.
"Now it is mine again
I am fain, I am fain
To pay you true, as a Spirit should do
With secrets of Heaven made plain.
Yet, not for long can I sing this song,
Nor dance the dance of the skies;
Your earth shows fair,
But dense is the air,
And we wonder not if your eyes
A very small part of the splendor see
Laid upon river and lea:
Only one gleam of the glory shed
From Fuji's diademed head
Down to this leaf of the momiji-tree
Which knows and courtesys to me:
For I and the maple-leaf are one
As we hear, as we hear
The tender unnoticed tone
Of your Earth's voice, ceaseless and clear:
And we move to the swing
Of your star, in the ring
She weaves round the flying Sun;
Weaves so—so—so:—
Which the waves understand
And the wind and the sand:
But you cannot ever know!"
'Twere good you should have watched O Tsuru San
Deftly pace this, with little lifted feet
Shod in the white silk tabi: and soft lips
Making the melodies to guide her feet,
The music sitting silent; or, at most,
Dropping a high note in now and again.
Then, with her fan before her face, or waved
In dreamy curves, she sang a verse of Love
We,—and the Fisher-boy—still on our knees.
She
"And Love—sweet Love!
Oh less than the splendor spread
From Fuji's head
To the sea, and the grass, and the grove
Know ye the deep things of this!
A little men taste its bliss
In the belov'd one's charms,
And the close-wound arms,
And the spirits which almost kiss
Through their dividing bodies; and delight
Of mother-love and father-love, and friends
Hand-fast, and heart-fast! But Death's sudden night
Comes; and in gloom, it seems, Love's sunshine ends.
Thus Love's warm golden wing
Shields not from shuddering
The souls it covers, chilled with dread to part.
Ah! could I tell,
Who see it near and well,
The far truth freely to each beating heart
Not on your tearful planet once again
Should Love be pain,
Nor from your blinded eyes should salt tears start.
But that which I would teach
Hath in your human speech
No words to name such comfort rich and great;
Therefore dream on, asleep,
And, dreaming, weep!
And wait! a little,—yet a little wait!"
So, or in suchwise, in soft Japanese,
The ancient uta flowed; and fluttered to it
O Tsuru San's light silks, kirtle and sleeve;
And closed and opened to it her brown arms;
While crystal tears stood in her eyes at times
Singing of sorrowful Love. Till, with a laugh
She stayed, and brake into the Planet Dance:
Joyously circling, singing, beating time:
She.
"Steps of my silvery star
Dancing alone, afar
So still, so slow
No mortal may know
How stately her footsteps are;
Nor what fair music is guide of her feet,
Solemn and high and sweet;
All in a tune
To the Sun and the Moon,
And the drums that the glad worlds beat.
As long a path as your little orb goes,
From the first of her flowers to the last of her snows
My white Home sweeps in a night;
Knowing not haste, knowing no rest,
For delight
In the life of her silver light
And joy of the wide blue waste,
Where the Angels pass
Like fish through the sea's green glass,
But you cannot see that sight!"
And, while we did not speak for wistfulness,
Watching the woven paces, wondering
To note how foot and tongue kept faultless time
To dreamy tinkling of the samisens,
Across her breast that golden-feathered gown
Softly she drew; spread her brown arms like wings;
And passed!—O Yuki San and we alone!
The "No" Dance ended!
"Thanks, dear Tsuru San!
Yet half we wish O Yuki had not given!"