Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author's Preface

I finally completed a poem.
I even resolved boldly to place this in the hands of a publisher and distribute it to acquaintances and literary colleagues who shared a passion for literature, but in truth, I hesitated.
I had indeed devoted my heart for many years to creating such a work.
Yet as it was an extraordinary reform—a most arduous undertaking—I had overlooked it until today.

At times I tried translating; at other times composing original works—I attempted various approaches—but this piece here became the culmination.
Recently however, debates over new-style poetry and variant-style poetry arose clamorously within literary circles, and courageous literary figures rolled up their sleeves to accomplish this great revolution, spurring themselves on until numerous small poems came to appear across various publications.
This was what encouraged me.
This was what made me approach the literary world.

I do not require this *Poem of the Chu Prisoner* to find acceptance in the literary world; however, I firmly believe that if our comrades unite in heart to carry out our shared aspirations through concerted effort, we shall ultimately advance the narrow conventions of ancient poetry, making it no more difficult to create an art as elegant and ethereal as the novels flourishing today.

Fortunately, as I am still young in years, even should this *Poem of the Chu Prisoner* invite your gentlemen’s ridicule or wound your sensibilities, I still believe that in days to come I may atone for this sin.

From the beginning, this was neither what our national language called a song nor a poem; rather, it resembled a novel.
However, this was still a poem; I would begin to compose my poem in this manner.
Moreover, as the Chu prisoner in this piece did not allegorize today’s era, the prison cell’s appearance and such necessarily differed.
Only the emotions and circumstances within the prison were where I had somewhat applied my mind.

Meiji 22 (1889), April 6, at the temporary residence outside Tōkoku Bridge [*Aozora Bunko Note 2]

Respectfully inscribed by Kitamura Montarō.

Section One

Once having mistakenly broken the law,
I was arrested as a political criminal,
among the young warriors who had sworn life and death with me—
among the many, I was their leader.

Among them existed my most beloved—
a maiden still a flower in bud,
For the nation's sake imprisoned together—
This groom and bride.

Section Two

My hair had grown exceedingly long without my notice,

Covering my forehead and blocking my eyes—it weighed heavily,

Flesh fell away; bones protruded; my chest was perpetually withered—

Sinking, withering, shrinking—ah, how wearying—
It was not from the passage of years,
Nor from suffering illness—
Even compared to Urashima’s return from timeless depths—
This bore no resemblance even to that—

My mouth dried up, my eyes sank,
This mouth that once made speeches to move the world,
These lively eyes that once pierced through eternity,
Now this mouth breathed rotten air,

Eyes glared at the confined dark walls.
And my arms were bent, legs were arched,

Ah, Chu prisoner! The sun of the world lies so far!

Ah, what crime is this?

Merely for charting the nation's course!

Ah, what harvest springs from this?

Because I gave myself wholly to this world's people!

Yet though they depart, I stand not alone;

My grandfather's bones lay scattered across battlefields,

My father too cast away his life for the realm,

In my turn I became a Chu prisoner,

Eternally torn from my mother's side.

Section Three

Prison cell!
The prison cell into which I had wretchedly strayed—
It was separated from the world by double walls,
Yet through gaps and holes in those walls—
Escape routes had vanished—yet sunlight still rushed in—
Seeking to illuminate my pale, emaciated arms—

Creeping along the wall, it drew near to my knees.

I absently lifted my head and looked—
This prison cell was spacious and desolate,
Within, four partitions formed boundaries,
Four prisoners had gathered—
The young warriors who once swore to share life and death,

How cruel! Confined in this narrow cage!

They were eagles of the mountaintop,

Freely soaring above towering trees,
and journeying unrestrained through the clear, bright sky,
they once wielded power over mountains and fields,
made even fierce bears cower in fear,
attacked the nests of poisonous snakes on the lake—
they who had been feared by the world—
now dwell in misery within this cage!

Though the four shared a single cell,
they were not permitted to converse;
though the four held the same thought,
they were not even allowed to convey it.

Each one was forbidden to step beyond their allotted space.
They were not permitted to step out.
The only ones who could communicate—
sighs born of a shared heart.

Section Four

Even among the four prisoners, there was beauty—

My bride… so young.

The color had vanished from her cheeks,

How sorrowful her countenance!

Ah—it pierces my chest!

That pensive gaze!

He shared a hometown with me,
Hand-in-hand with me he went up to the capital—

We departed Kyoto and left Lake Biwa behind,
Passed through Sanshū’s fertile plains and arrived at Hamana,

Emerging at the base of Mount Fuji and crossing Hakone,
Finally we arrived at the flower capital,
Though love and romance may bear transgression,
The love of our two selves resides in the spirit,
Though flowers are beautiful,
The beauty of my bride lies in its pistil,
How passionate the bird that sings upon the plum branch,
My passion resides solely in a crimson heart,
Her soft hand is upon my shoulder,

I offered prayers to God many times.
Yet I was cruelly envied by the unfeeling wind,
Love, hope, and the flower all withered.

Without having formed even a single night's bond,

The groom and bride were in the prison cell.

The prison cell was narrow.
Even in its narrowness—two worlds—
In that world existed half of myself,
In this world existed half of myself.
Was that side the abode, or this side?
Day and night, my soul wandered alone!

Section Five

The remaining three were young warriors.

Some from Tōōku, others from Chūgoku—

They, even among warriors, were those I loved—

Truly brave and heroic youths they were,

Yet behold their arms being bound!

And still no trace of anger showed—

Anger’s hue!
Why do they rage?

The God of Freedom does not dwell in this world!
Though the rabbit may declare it, their souls remain unbound,

Unfettered, they would dance across mountains and rivers near and far;
Upon the summit of that Mount Fuji, your souls remained,
Riding clouds and frolicking with the moon they would be.

Ah, why would your pure souls linger even a moment within this unsullied prison cell!
Thus speaking, my soul too was not in the prison—
day and night slipping free through its window.
The soul of the maiden I loved followed in pursuit,
and together they danced their way to the flower garden of old.
Violets grew upon ground free of dust and filth,
forget-me-nots bore their evocative name—
they gently picked those flowers and others besides.

One cluster I adorned upon my chest.

Another cluster I gave to my beloved.

Hah!
This is but a dream!

Behold!
My bride turns this way!

That pitiful sight!

Ah, here was the prison cell.

This world was hell.

Section Six

The sun of the world and the sun of the prison cell were things apart.

Within these walls，the distinction between day and night grew faint—

Why…had I grown accustomed to sleeping through daylight?

I was awake during the quiet hours of night,

One night.
I indulged in a brief sitting doze,

rose and forcibly opened my detested eyes.

When I looked around, the darkness was as dark as usual,

yet a hazy light filtered in… This was the moon!

When I recognized it as the moon, the seed of ceaseless thoughts sprouted—

I asked: Is today’s moon the same as yesterday’s?

Indeed!
The bright moon that cannot be stamped out or extinguished—

Ah, in my youth I once climbed Mount Fuji,

and nearby beheld that beautiful moon upon its summit.

O Queen of Beauty!
Once too I cast a skiff upon the Sumida,

amidst blooming flowers pledging myself to you.

It must be the same moon!
Yet I cannot see it—

It must be the same light!
Yet it does not reach me—

Though I call and beckon, it no longer...

You are not my friend.

Section Seven

The prison guard, exhausted, slept soundly,
The autumn-water sword at his waist was exceedingly heavy,

The beloved does not know of my wakefulness…

The paradise of sleep… Still he lies most content.

Ah, even in a bed of two woolen rugs—
How peacefully this goddess sleeps!
I stepped lightly many times,
I tried to disturb my lover’s sleep,
Yet though there be no sorrow in sleep,
I would rouse her—yet resolve never to summon such disturbance again,
I turned my eyes toward the iron-barred window.
I came to the window’s base without intending to come.
It was not to find an escape route.

I simply came as my feet led me.
The moonlight filtering in—
Yet how nostalgic its form!

Section Eight

Thoughts surged; the bygone days grew ever new with each passing day.

In those mountains, those waters, that garden, those flowers—my heart remained,

Those flowers!
I and my mother and my bride

Together we planted flowers, yet parted from them,

Reflecting on this, I had no moment to bid farewell.

Though there was no one around to mind, furtively—
I leaned against the prison window’s base—
Let there be some word from the world—whatever it may be—
The wait bore fruit!
What is this?

The chrysanthemum’s longed-for scent sent from afar!

Unthinkingly I raised my nose—
The chrysanthemums from my family’s garden have not forgotten me—
They come to visit me even in this distant western land—

Ah, friend who remembers me!
My regret lies with this scent—
It cannot be touched by my hand.

Section Nine

Another morning，I awoke late，
The sunlight creeping high along the wall.

I first directed my gaze toward my bride’s cell,

What is this?!
My bride, gone without a trace!

I suppose she was sent to another prison cell;

I had been moved during my sleep,

Ah, how pitiable!
Whether one glance or one meeting—

(For why? Since exchanging words was not permitted—)

We could not even exchange a token of eternal parting!

The three young warriors too have vanished without a trace,

Alone in this hall, I had been left,
The dream I saw during morning slumber was false,

Alas, the false dream!
They have all gone!
Gone, my love too!
Gone too, the true comrades of our alliance!

Section Ten

Weariness came, and both memory and years departed.

It grew cold, it grew warm; spring and autumn passed by.

In the darkness and listlessness, I lost all emotion.

Now I knew only the act of sitting cross-legged.

Sin and hope, the world and stars—all had ended.

For me, all things... had returned to nothingness.

Only desolation… faint breathing—

It was the resonance of life-and-death’s darkness—

The sweet beloved bride, the national cause to which I had devoted myself—

I had utterly forgotten—no longer dream nor even reality!

Alas, I cannot take three steps before meeting a wall;
Three circuits weary me—even my own legs betray me at last!

Section Eleven

To me, there is no distinction between day and night,

Yet even to my weary ears came sounds,

The crowing of dawn's rooster and crows hastening to their roost—

The rabbit's form—were it to speak... lay beyond what imagination had ever conceived.

One evening—I pressed my wooden pillow early against
the windowsill and prayed to the god of sleep.
Though I prayed, this weary brain still found no rest—
half in slumber and half deceased—yet the remaining half

I am alive—though I do not wish to be.

Suddenly, there came one who knocked at the window and called to my spirit.

Perversely, I recalled the bride of times past,

Supporting my weak hips, I attempted to leap up to the window,

What is this?!
What... struck my face!

I had not anticipated it—after the long passage of many years and months—
For the first time, a creature of the world came to visit.

He did not find the prison cell narrow—
he freely stretched his wings above and below the beams.
A fine friend indeed—this bat despised by the sun—
boredom had come to visit me; I did not disdain this prison cell.
I envisioned!
Is this not the incarnation of my bride?
Ah, the promised things and hoped-for things never came—
assuming a detestable form, you have come longing for me!
Yet how pitiable!
I did not let the bat depart.

Section Twelve

Since I possessed only unsoiled garments,
I took this off and threw it to the bat.
He—delighted—fell to the floor along with the garment,

I crawled closer and restrained it,

The bat wept in a voice so sorrowful—

Why? Because he still retained his freedom—

Fear not!
The captor has lost his freedom,

In capturing you…… my ambition remains unextinguished.

Ah!
This is a bat!
My bride could never have such an ugly face!

However, I did not let him escape,

Why... if this creature could become my friend—
Good… I shall keep it in this prison cell for a while—

But what am I to do? How am I to keep him?

Do I lack even the strength to detain this single beast?

How wretched! There is still freedom—for this beast.

I released him,

Creature of freedom… He rejoiced,

Swiftly he escaped through the prison window.

The next painting was a grave mistake—and yet it was the work of a renowned painter and a passionate sculptor.
It may appear only as an evening scene in the fields, but you must see it as the inside of a prison cell.

Section Thirteen

What I resent is that the memories of old do not fade—

The youthful days of yore... that joyous homeland!

Even in darkness, the eye of recollection shone exceedingly bright—

A painting yet not a painting—my homeland!

Winter mountains crowned with snow, stream waters veiled in mist,

That beauty surely remains unchanged—yesterday and today,

—The fate of my solitary self… how—

Even if I should change utterly along with the transient world!

Ah, azure heavens!
Do eagles still soar there?

Ah, abyss!
Do fish still leap there?

Spring?
Autumn?
Flower?
Moon?

Do these things still exist?

Once, with my love, I wandered—

What has become of the shadows of those joyous fields and mountains?

The wildflowers I picked?
The murmur of the stream I once heard?

Ah, these were my most beloved friends!
Existence—nonexistence—the answer is unnecessary,
Constantly, in my imagination, it appears vividly—
If I had wings, I would return once more—
The humble and peaceful hut of old.

Section Fourteen

Winter torments me with its severity,
The sunlight piercing the walls brings no warmth,
The days are short!
And the nights are exceedingly long!

The cold froze my eyelids - sleep would not come.

Yet when spring might return one day -

Good - though there was nothing left to look back upon, for me in my cursed fate,

I simply waited for spring with an empty heart,

I summoned spring from within the prison cell to the high heavens.

At last, I was informed of spring’s arrival—

The nightingale!

O nightingale singing beyond the iron-barred window!

I know not—what manner of tree stands there?

A plum tree?
If it be a plum tree, its fragrance should ride the wind.
O beautiful song!

O nightingale!

I sprang up,
Barely managing to climb up to the iron-barred window—
The nightingale, startled by this noise,
Perched on the prison cell’s eaves—so quietly!
I began to doubt once more……this bird was indeed…
If it is truly the incarnation of my beloved wife—
The nightingale turned toward my ghostly figure,
Without attempting to fly away,
The refreshing beauty of that voice singing out once more!
My years of melancholy swept away.

Your beautiful robe is a blessing from God,
Your beautiful melody too is a blessing from God,
Your remaining in this prison cell
is also God’s… This mercy granted to me—
Yes!
God has sent the nightingale,
this profound heart that consoles my misfortune!
Ah—resembling a dream yet not a dream—
Even upon my own self… God’s compassion reaches.
I recall…does my wife still exist in this world?
If she has passed away, then this bird must be her incarnation,

Does my beloved still groan within this prison cell?
If that be so, then this bird must indeed be the incarnation of her spirit.
Her free, noble, and wondrous spirit—
That it has taken form as this beautiful bird stands to reason,
And thus does my melancholy come visiting once more—

O true friend of love!
My eyes filled with tears.

XV

The nightingale began to sing again,

I could comprehend the meaning of that song—
Were I to discern a hundred kinds of words,
All would be words of love meant to comfort me!
Did you come from the mortal world, or perhaps from heaven?
To my eyes, you appeared solely as God’s messenger.
Ah, though left behind!
Your refined manner—
As though you had fled a cage to come here—

If that is the case……did it come pitying my sympathy,

Did you come… thinking to keep me company?

Bird of love!
Cast aside by the world—even this body of mine!

O nightingale!
Though you have left the cage,

I shall not be forgiven until death!

Though it made me weep and even brought me laughter,

Your song cannot save me from my misfortune.

O my bride… no, O nightingale!

Oh, how tragic—he fled away!

Ah, this too is a creature of the fleeting world.

If she were my wife, why would she flee!

Having cast me back into this desolation,
leaving me in this wretched tomb—
Dark, hollow tomb—

There lay decayed air,
A dampened floor bitterly cold—
I had designated this place as a tomb,
For I had already been buried alive.
O Death—when will you come?
Do not make me wait long, O you whom I await!
I—O you—am one who has committed no sin against you!

XVI

The nightingale abandoned me and left.
I sank even deeper into melancholy,
What of spring in the capital?

Certainly, the capital is now in full bloom!

Amidst such imaginings of mine,

After a long interval, the jailer entered.
Finally, I was released,
I expressed gratitude for the great mercy of the amnesty.

When I exited the gate—many friends,

they gathered and came to welcome me,

Among them was my most beloved bride,
She came running and grasped my hand,
In her eyes as in mine were the same tears—
And many friends joyfully danced,
The same dear nightingale from before also came here,
Once more let the crowd hear its exquisite melody.

＊Note 1

From the historical anecdote of Zhong Yi of Chu during China’s Spring and Autumn and Warring States period—who, even after being captured by Jin, continued wearing his Chu cap and never forgot his homeland—the term refers to people who became captives in a foreign land, prisoners of war, or detainees.

＊Note 2

There is a question regarding the ruby annotations in this part.
Tōkoku moved to Tokyo’s Ginza district at the age of twelve.
It is considered that the name Tōkoku was also conceived through the progression: Sukiyabashi Bridge’s sukiya (Sukiya) → Tōkoku (Sukiya) → Tōkoku (Tōkoku).
Does this not mean that we should apply the reading “Sukiyabashi” to Tōkoku Bridge?