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I have been here before,—
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet, keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights along the shore.
You have been mine before,—
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
Yet what a queer living difference between such enigmatically delicate handling of thoughts classed as forbidden fruit in the Western Eden of Dreams and the every-day Japanese utterances that spring directly out of ancient Eastern faith!—
Love, it is often said, has nothing to do with reason.
The cause of ours must be some En in a previous birth.[1]
Iro wa shian no
Hoka to-wa ido,
Kor mo saki-sho no
En de ar.
"En" is a Buddhist word signifying affinity,—relation of cause and effect from life to life.
Even the knot of the rope tying our boats together
Knotted was long ago by some love in a former birth.
If the touching even of sleeves be through En of a former
existence,
Very much deeper must be the En that unites us now![2]
Sod suri- no mo
Tash no en yo,
Mashit futari ga
Fukai naka.
Allusion is here made to the old Buddhist proverb: Sod no furi-awas mo tash no en,—"Even the touching of sleeves in passing is caused by some affinity operating from former lives."
Kwah[3] this life must be,—this dwelling with one so tender;
—I am reaping now the reward of deeds in a former birth!
[3] The Buddhist word "Kwah" is commonly used instead of other synonyms for Karma (such as ingwa, innen, etc.), to signify the good, rather than the bad results of action in previous lives. But it is sometimes used in both meanings. Here there seems to be an allusion to the proverbial expression, Kwah no yoi hito (lit.: a person of good Kwah), meaning a fortunate individual.
Many songs of this class refer to the customary vow which lovers make to belong to each other for more lives than one,—a vow perhaps originally inspired by the Buddhist aphorism,—
Oya-ko wa, is-s;
Ffu wa, ni-s;
Shuj wa, san-z.
"The relation of parent and child is for one life; that of wife and husband, for two lives; that of master and servant, for three lives." Although the tender relation is thus limited to the time of two lives, the vow—(as Japanese dramas testify, and as the letters of those who kill themselves for love bear witness)—is often passionately made for seven. The following selections show a considerable variety of tone,—ranging from the pathetic to the satirical,—in the treatment of this topic:
I have cut my hair for his sake; but the deeper relation between us
Cannot be cut in this, nor yet in another life.[4]
Kami wa kitt mo
Ni-s made kaketa
Fukai enishi wa
Kiru mono ka?
Literally: "Hair have-cut although, two existences until, deep relation, cut-how-can-it-be?" By the mention of the hair-cutting we know the speaker is a woman. Her husband, or possibly betrothed lover, is dead; and, according to the Buddhist custom, she signifies her desire to remain faithful to his memory by the sacrifice of her hair. For detailed information on this subject see, in my Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan, the chapter, "Of Women's Hair."
She looks at the portrait of him to whom for two lives she is
promised:
Happy remembrances come, and each brings a smile to her
face.[5]
Ni-s to chigirishi
Shashin we nagam
Omoi-idashit
Warai-gao.
Lit.: "Two existences that made alliance, photograph look-at, thinking bring-out smiling face." The use of the term shashin, photograph, shows that the poem is not old.
If in this present life we never can hope for union,
Then we shall first keep house in the Lotos-Palace beyond.[6]
Totmo kono yo d
Sowar-nu naraba
Hasu no utna d
Ara stai.
Lit.: "By-any-means, this-world-in, cannot-live-together if, Lotos-of Palace-in, new-housekeeping." It is with this thought that lovers voluntarily die together; and the song might be called a song of jshi.
Have we not spoken the vow that binds for a double existence?
If we must separate now, I can only wish to die.
There!—oh, what shall we do?... Pledged for a double
existence,—
And now, as we sit together, the string of the samisen snaps![7]
[7] Among singing-girls it is believed that the snapping of a samisen-string under such circumstances as those indicated in the above song is an omen of coming separation.
He woos by teaching the Law of Cause and Effect for three lives,
And makes a contract for two—the crafty-smiling priest![8]
[8] This song is of a priest who breaks the vow of celibacy.
Every mortal has lived and is destined to live countless lives; yet the happy moments of any single existence are not therefore less precious in themselves:—
Not to have met one night is verily cause for sorrow;
Since twice in a single birth the same night never comes.
