EAST & WEST
THE HAGAROMO OF ZEAMI
Leader: Can you hear the rhythmic call of
Rowers
As they trace the paths of the uneven sea,
Riding their boats
Through the swells of Mio Bay?
Fisherman: I am Hakuryo, a fisherman. I live by the pinewoods of Mio.
Lead.& Fisher: It is said:
"Though a whole town of hills were closed
in cloud
Still somewhere the moon will shine clear
at one peak."
So we are favoured here.
Spring
Evidences itself in the pines of the shore
Though early mist
still clings to the sloping sea
And a pale, late moon
Stays in one corner of the sky.
It is something to see
For eyes as earth-weighted as ours must be
Lowest and least
In the claims of true appreciation.
We will go
By way of this sea of Kigomi
and look on them -
The woodlands and pinewoods of Mio.
Fellow-fishers,
Why do we back our boats to the shore,
No fishing done?
Do you take that band of cloud
across the sea
To be a token of rising weather?
No, it is mild,
and the sweet slow singing of the wind
is in the trees.
In the silent morning calm the little ships
hold the bay,
The boats of a thousand fishers, look -
bouyant on the water!
[Leader returns to sit with chorus; fisherman advances to front of the stage]
Fisher: Now I have landed. I have reached the pine-woods of Mio and everywhere I see the beauty of the shore. I can hear starting music, the sky flowers above me, it is scented as it coils its air around me. This is uncommon loveliness. Here a strange cloak hangs on the pine bough. I will go and look at it. It is a marvellous work and sweet to hold. It can be no ordinary garment. I will take it with me and show to my friends at home. I will keep it in my house as a treasure.
[The Angel speaks from the entry, and slowly advances]
Angel: Wait! That is my cloak. Where are you taking it?
Fisher: I found it. I found it here. I will take it home.
Angel: It is an angel's cloak, all of feathers - no mortal can ever wear it. Please replace it.
Fisher: Oh yes? The owner of this is an angel of the sky? Then it deserves to be safely kept! It will be a famous treasure, generations to come will share it with me. I will certainly not return it.
Angel: Ah! without my cloak
How can I walk again in the wing-paths of the air?
How can I climb back
To the sky, to my home, ever again?
Return it,
Hand it back to me, for charity's sake.
Fisher: Charity
doesn't apply here.
Your insistence
makes me appreciate more what I have
And hardens me.
Look, I will take your robe and hide it.
[He puts it in his pocket]
You will not get it back.
Angel: Then I am stranded here, I am like a bird
without wings.
I would rise and fly, but how can I?
My robe is gone.
Fisher: Rather you must sink and cling to the dingy earth
A world-bound being.
Angel: This way, that way I turn.
It is all despair.
Fisher: When she saw he was determined to keep it -
Angel: Her strength failed -
Fisher: There was no way to help it -
CHORUS: On her crown,
Jewelled with the shine of tears
The flowers
Of heaven wilted and faded
In their dying.
It is pitiful to see with our very eyes
The signs of sickness
Invade the being of an angel.
Angel: I look up
But the plains of heaven are clouded over,
Are hidden
In mist, the path has gone.
CHORUS: Oh clouds!
You are enviable enough,
Passing and moving
In the empty sky, with no other goal or burden!
Look, that was my home!
Now the song of the phoenix fades from above,
I can hardly hear it,
And I envy the clanking, lucky wild-geese
Still sky-borne,
And the circling, sweeping, out and back
Gulls of the bay.
Even the wind I envy, because it has its place in heaven -
I envy the spring wind!
Fisher: Listen. I have seen you now and your sorrow. It has changed my mind. I should like to return your mantle.
Angel: That delights me! Please give it to me!
Fisher: Wait. I have heard of the dances performed in heaven. Dance for me now, and I will return your cloak.
Angel: I am happy, once again I am happy!
When my wings are returned I will climb the sky again!
In thanks
I will leave you a dance in the world,
A gift for princes.
A tune of dancing that will turn the moon.
I will dance
And leave here for the sad men of earth.
...But return my cloak, I cannot dance unless I have it. Whatever you say, I must have the robe first.
Fisher: Not yet, for if I handed it over, you would hardly stay to dance, but fly straight up into the sky.
Angel: No, that it not our way. There is no trickery in Heaven.
Fisher: I am ashamed. Look, I return you your mantle.
[He hands over the cloak to the angel]
Angel: The lady of heaven puts on her coat,
She dances
A dance of the rainbow robe, of the coat of feathers -
Fisher: And the feathers
Rise and tickle in the wind -
Angel: The sleeve
Is a flower moist with rain -
Fisher: She dances -
Angel: I will dance -
CHORUS: - The dance of Suruga.
This is its words:
WHY HAVE WE CALLED
THE SKY OF HEAVEN
AS WIDE AS BOUNDLESS?
Izanagi and Izanami
IN THE TIMES OF OLD
FRAMED A MEASUFED
WORLD FOR MEN
SHUT WITH TEN SIDES
BUT THE ARCH OF SKY ABOVE
THEY MADE TO BE
AS WIDE AS BOUNDLESS.
Angel: And for the Moon-God's palace they cut out walls
with an axe of jade.
CHORUS: AND THE THIRTY ANGELS,
WHITE AND DARK,
THEY FORMED INTO TWO SETS,
SOME FOR THE MOON WANING,
SOME FOR THE MOON WAXING,
ONE ANGEL SERVES
THE MOON EACH NIGHT
IN DUTY.
Angel: For I am an angel of the moon,
I am one of their set.
CHORUS: The moon-laurel fruit was mine to eat,
but I came here too,
And my gift to earth will be the dance of Suruga.
The long spring mists
trail across the face of the earth
but in the valleys of the moon
I think the celestial trees are in blossom also.
On her crown
The flowers return to their glory again -
It is a sign of spring.
Though there is no heaven here, yet the wind and sky
Are beautiful for us too.
And the walls of cloud
Cannot hide from us this vision of the angel.
The tint of the woods,
The colour of the headland, the snow of Fuji,
the moonlight on the shore -
Which is lovelier? - each amazes us
At dawn
the waves sound lapping, and the breeze titters in the pines
of the shore.
Why should Heaven seem so separate then
from Earth?
Are we not all children of the Gods, inside and outside
the jewelled Temple?
All born where no cloud ever halts the moon
In a Land of Sunrise?
Angel: May life last you, never to be eroded.
The harp and the pipe
sound in the clouds also, and our colours
are the red
of the sunset mountain light
the green
of the islands afloat in the sea
the white
of the blossoms blown in the wind,
of clouds
that are a waving of sleeves in the air.
Angel & Fisher: TO THE RULER OF THE MOON
I PRAY GLORY AND PRAISE
TO HIM, TO THE COMPANION OF AMIDA.
Angel: My robe
is sky, the empty blue of Heaven
CHORUS: And the mist,
it is a garment of Spring mist.
Angel: An angel's shirt
Is sweet and bright as it swishes this side and that side.
The flowers of the crown nod,
and the sleeves of feathers trail and lift like the sleeves of a dancer.
CHORUS: She has danced for us
The dances we cannot number, of the sky.
Her beauty
is that of the moon at its fifteenth night,
shining with Truth.
Her pledge is honoured and we are the richer
for her gift,
A dance that is a treasure from Heaven.
[Angel turns now and slowly leaves]
Hours are passing
and the sky-cloak is shining high
over the pine-woods of Mio,
over the floating islands and the feet of the clouds;
she passes
the mountain of Ashitaka and the peak of Fuji,
very faint now,
she blurs with the mist of Heaven, and is
lost to our sight.
THE SEKIDERA KOMACHI
Chorus: After so long, it is autumn again. The stars of the Cowherd & Weaver Girl
Meet in the heaven, it is the sign of the Festival of Tanubata, on the 7th month's 7th day.
Abbot: I am chief priest of the Sekidera monastery in Omi. Today we are come to celebrate the Festival of Stars in the temple garden here. We have heard that an old woman who built her hut at the foot of the mountain is skillful indeed in the art of poetry. So, on this festival dedicated to verse, I am taking the young people to go and listen to her.
Chorus: The Autumn has come early, its feel is already chill, yes.
In man and in weather the aging change is apparent. The 7th night is close.
Abbot: We bring our festival offerings today, with music of many kinds...
Chorus: With decorated branches holding poems...
Abbot: ...written in our living language.
Chorus: Prayers for skill at poetry, with bright 5-coloured ribbons & streamers,
Each itself a prayer like the threads in the cloth of the loom of the flowers of the Autumn,
Like the great grasses white with dew. The moving wind round the pines
Sings with the koto to make our music tonight, appropriate offering of sound.
[Abbot advances, followed by child.]
Abbot: This is the hut. We will now call on the woman. Please seat yourself first.
[Child sits. Screen in front of Ono is drawn aside.]
Ono: Days pass with seldom even one bowl of food. Who can I ask?
At night my ragged clothes are no covering. How can I hope to mend them?
Each slight rain sets the flowers crimson and more, & the willows are tricked
By the wind, green once and failing, drooping. There is no 2nd chance to be young,
Only we grow old. With the cycle of the spring, the surviving thrush will again
Sing, but it is no reversal of time. How I long for the days past!
Abbot: Old woman, look, we have come to speak with you.
Ono: Who are you?
Abbot: I am a priest from Sekidera. These youngsters with me are students of poetry. They have heard of your skill, so I have brought them with me to ask you about such things, to learn something of your life.
Ono: This is an unexpected visit! The stump so deep in the ground, so long forgotten, cannot be expected to suddenly give new growth! But remember this: if you make your heart the seed and your words the blossoms, if you will be total in your being in the art, you may not fail to accomplish true poetry. But, really, how excellent it is that mere youngsters should cherish a love of verse!
Abbot: May I ask your opinion? There is a poem everyone knows:
"In Naniwa Harbour
The trees turn to blossom.
Though they slept the whole winter,
In the spring -
See how the buds are open!"
Do you agree that it is an admirable model?
Ono: Indeed I do. Poetry goes back to the Age of the Gods, but the metres then were irregular and the meanings difficult to grasp. "The Harbour of Naniwa" is accessible, it belongs to the Age of Man. It was composed to celebrate the Emperor Nintoku's enthronement, and has long been revered for that association.
Abbot: And the poem about Mt. Asaka, written to cheer Kazuraki in his exile, what of that?
"Mount Asaka:
Reflected in the hill-side water
Of the spring!
There is depth too in that:
So in my thoughts of you."
Is that not also beautifully written?
Ono: Clearly, you understand the art. These two are the parents of all poems...
Abbot: The models beginners look to, like us...
Ono: Noble or modest writers admire them...
Abbot: Those that live in cities and the country...
Ono: Undistinguished people like ourselves...
Abbot: Can also take pleasure in composition...
Ono: According to the prompting of our hearts...
Chorus: Though the sands of the licking waves of the lake of Omi should melt away,
The words of poetry remain. They are the enduring green of the pine,
The coherence of the long stems of willow. Verse is the heart, is continuous.
Dynasties & the world work and vanish, but the traces of the poem never disappear.
Abbot: Thankyou for your explanation. Many poems, indeed, survive from the past, but not many by women come to my mind. Perhaps you can help me there - this poem
-"See the spider sign -
- Spinning her web;
Now I am certain
Of your visit"
- was that not written by a woman?
Ono: Yes, that was written long ago by Sotori, consort of the Emperor Ingyo. I tried to master something of her compact style.
Abbot: Ah! you have studied the style of Princess Sotori! I have heard that Ono no Komachi, so much respected now, also developed that style...
"A weed, broken from
The water:
If the current catches,
What would I want
But to go?"
That is by Komachi.
Ono: Yes. Once my husband favoured another woman: I was very unhappy at the time. Then the poet Funya invited me to accompany him to Mikawa. I wrote the poem in response to his offer.
"Words!
Forgotten
And remembered
Once more as I talk.
They have returned like tears!"
Abbot: Strange! This old woman says she wrote the poem I quoted. And she favoured the Sotori style, just as Komachi did. Why, she must be nearly a 100; if Komachi were alive today, she too... And why should she not be alive? It must be so! Excuse me, but you are surely Ono no Komachi. You cannot deny it.
Ono: Ah! I am ashamed to hear my name, now. Once I could write:
"The flower in the heart...
Chorus: "If it fades,
What sign would show?"
Now look at me!
"A weed, broken from
The Water:
If the current catches,
What would I want
But to go?"
How shameful I must seem!
"How can you hide
Too many tears?
If they were rain
They would dissolve the past."
Now my life has reached its end, like a dead flower on the stalk,
Why should there still be tears?
Ono: "With longing I fell asleep,
But in my dreams, I saw him"...
Chorus: The joy when I wrote those lines! It is all gone, but I am living on,
Waiting on the months and years, passing & passing. The moisture of spring recedes,
And the frost comes in Autumn; leaf & grass burn; the insects still.
Ono: My life closes and I see it...
Chorus: Like a flower of a day, with one moment of glory.
"Living
Is increase of dying,
Remaining
For lamenting."
How long should I live, with nothing left but bare life? How I long for the past!
My middle years were spent yearning even then for my youth. Now
That too is a recollection in itself. I would wish for even middle-age.
Once, where I slept, my room would be brightened with tortoise-shell & with golden flowers;
The door would hang with strings of crystals, & the gowns were a 100 colours,
Bright as the emperor's chair. Look at my mud-wall hut! Is this my room?
Ono: The bell of the Sekidera Temple...
Chorus: Rings out the vanity of everything.
It is a needless lesson to ancient ears. Down from the slope of Osaka
The mountain wind blows with the story of the certainty of death. But
It is not for me yet. When the leaves scattter about and toss,
Still in this hut I am busy grinding ink, dipping my brush, writing.
And the words are dried as shore seaweed. "Touching, but lacking in real strength" -
- They said that of my work, because I am a woman. Now I am old
My poems are weaker still. Lacking all energy. Such it is to be old!
Child: Master, I fear we will be late for the Festival of Stars. Why don't we ask the old lady to accompany us?
Abbot: Please join us on this seventh night, for the festival.
Ono: Oh, I am too old, I should not intrude at such a time. I cannot go.
Abbot: What harm could come of it? Please come with us.
Ono: The Seventh Night...
Chorus: How long it's been, how many years, since I first offered
Bamboos to the gods with poems & streamers! How long has shrivelled Komachi lived?
Has Ono reached a l00 years? Or even more? I used to watch
[The child begins a simple dance]
This festival in rich company - now dressed in hemp I am!
Yet tonight must be celebrated, all the offerings to the stars,
The playing of music & the sharing of wine, and a young dancer, look
How gracefully he curves his sleeves, they float like snow on the moon.
Ono: This festival of stars, may it be enjoyed through ages as many as the joints of bamboo!
Well, how gracefully the boy has danced! I remember long ago
In the Palace, there, how the girls deployed their sleeves in the autumn festival!
If a madman breaks into a run, they say, even the sane start running too -
But tonight I reverse the proverb: following the boy, see how a madwoman manages...
[She begins a slow dance]
"A hundred years...
Chorus: "…The dance of the butterfly
When he dreamed
A century had passed
Folded as he was
In the petal of a flower"
- How sad, and how sweet: the growing branch of a dry, dead tree.
Ono: I have forgot how to move my hands...
Chorus: Unsteady the feet, unsupple the flow of the sleeves...
Ono: Wave upon wave, floating wave upon wave...
Chorus: I cannot wave me back to the past.
Ono: How I miss those vanished days!
Chorus: But as I danced, the brief night of autumn has yielded to the day
And the temple bell is ringing.
Ono: The bird-chorus announces...
Chorus: …The coming day, the approach of dawn, & the fresh light shows me my shame.
Ono: Where is the Hidden Forest?
Chorus: Where is the Hidden Forest? There is no cover here for me.
Farewell, I will leave now...
Now, leaning painfully on her stick she slowly goes to her hut.
This aged woman you have spoken to is all that endures of Ono no Komachi.
THE DISPUTE BETWEEN TRUE AND FALSE LOGIC CONCERNING EDUCATION FROM ARISTOPHANES' PLAY THE CLOUDS.
True: Show yourself to the audience,
Presumptious fellow!
False: As you like -
I'd rather demolish you
In public.
True: You?
Demolish me?!
Let's hear your name first!
False: I'm Logic.
True: Then you are a counterfeit!
False: You may claim authenticity,
But so what -
I can still beat you.
True: On facts?
False: In argument.
True: You wouldn't dare try
If there weren't so many fools
Willing to egg you on.
False: They're no fools,
Just keeping themselves
Abreast of the times.
True: I'll cross all of you out.
False: How?
True: With Justice and Truth.
False: Oh, I can cope with that.
You see, I maintain
That perfect Justice doesn't exist.
True: No Justice? anywhere?
False: Well, where would you find it?
True: With God.
False: God? Who made injustice
To start with?
Then changed his mind,
And tried to redeem us.
Then changed it again,
And wants to end the world?
How do you like that?
True: Blasphemy!
Quick! a bucket -
I want to vomit!
False: You old reactionary!
True: You unprincipled parvenu!
False: You compliment me...
True: You ambivalent biped!
False: Again and again....
True: You rootless, radical iconoclast!
False: And it doesn't even
Occur to you
How you flatter me.
True: Flatten you, that's what I'll do.
False: You're too old.
True: Oh, none of the younger generation now
Wants to do a decent day's work
Because of you & your like -
But one day the country
Will wake up to all
The mischief you've worked.
False: You ragged old primate!
True: I may not look as smart as you,
But you were a beggar once,
Whining for applause at fringe events,
Pleading for a minute or two
Of off-peak viewing
To vent your cheap satire.
False: ls nothing sacred?
True: Alas for our sacred city & land!
To let you ruin the young!
False: What could you teach this boy for example -
You, older than Big Ben!
True: More than the nothing
Of your vulgar falsehoods!
False: Come to me, boy! He's off his head!
True: Don't you dare lay a finger on him!
Chorus: Stop this bickering!
Sir, you tell us about the traditional ways,
And you, tell us all the modern ideas,
And let him listen & make up his own mind
Whom to follow.
True: That's fair.
False: I agree to that.
Chorus: Who wants to go first?
False: I'll give way with pleasure.
(Then anything he says
I can turn back on him
With a hive of ridicule.)
Chorus: Now these two pandits
Will give us
Of their very best.
(The modern way
Could be at some risk, here!)
Venerable Sir, you have been applauded
By generations for your virtue:
Tell us now
Your most deeply held convictions.
True: I shall.
I support the age-old discipline,
From the days when Justice ruled
And the Eternal Morals were respected.
The first rule was always:
Do what your parents tell you.
The little ones would troop to Sunday-school, or Scouts,
And sing and march and smile
Even if it was icy weather.
At school assembly and prize-giving,
They would sing the old hymns properly
Tunes of dignity and nobility,
Singing the words clearly and with meaning,
Not the mumbling munching style of so-called pop song.
How he would have been laughed at for that!
And on the games field
They acted with fairness and sportmanship
Never challenging the ref
And never ever kissing each other
Or showing up with long hair.
And dancing was proper and respectful
None of this sensual wriggling and leering.
Sex and selfishness - things like that
Simply weren't thought of -
Manners were the standard then.
No one would dream
Of snatching the salad cream or tomato ketchup
Before his elders,
Or jumping in ahead of a bus-queue,
Or switching channels when the News comes on.
False: Dusty, stuffy tomfoolery -
A bygone world of maypole dancing,
I-Spy bird-spotters' badges
And blood-thirsty war-comics!
True: They were the heroes of the battle for the homeland!
You teach the girls to wear nasty bright shorts
And the boys to curl their hair -
It makes a mockery of patriocity!
Young fellow, keep to the real world,
Give up all this wild indulgence,
Learn to be a good citizen,
And don't cheek your superiors;
Lead a decent, honest life.
None of this free sex and cheap credit
And staying up all night,
Or you'll never get a company pension.
You may laugh at your parents
But it's steady, respectable ways like theirs that count -
Think of all they've done for you!
False: Well, if they'll swallow that,
They deserve to have their mortgage foreclosed!
True: No, you'll gain honours and certificates
Instead of swapping dirty stories in the playground
Or beinq dragged into court for maintenance.
You'll go to university and form
Platonic friendships
And go punting & hiking & have good clean fun
You'll be healthy and
Wealthy
And be wise
And win prizes
And learn to distinguish
Good from Bad
And have a fine
Fear-god family of your own!
Chorus: What a lovely picture you paint!
And I thought those
Were the bad old days!
So, it's your turn now:
You'll have to be pretty convincing
Or you'll be quite discredited.
False: I couldn't contain myself much longer.
If I've a claim to "Real" or "True",
It's this - that I was first
To sense the flaws
In the old-fashioned way of thinking.
And what flaws!
Just listen to this,
So kids shouldn't have long hair?
True: Certainly not. They all look like girls.
False: Well I've got you now.
Of all the heroes in the Bible
Can you tell me
Who was the strongest?
True: Why, Samson, of course. It's proverbial.
False: [to audience] And what happened when he cut his hair?
Why - he suddenly lost
All his manly strength - didn't he?
True: Typical. Exactly the sort of quibble
Young smart-alecs use
To do what they like!
False: And why shouldn't they?
How are the kids
Ever to cope with the chaos and the change your ot seeded
If they're not allowed to think freely?
You have put yourself at the centre of all logic -
Why should not they do the same?
We do not take word-meanings for granted -
And after all what else is there?
As for their acts -
How will they ever gain this happy chesnut-burnishing family you cherish so
If they don't start practising now?
And by the way, what on earth is so special
About marital fidelity?
True: Think of our leading public family!
False: And their indiscretions:
all those queues of girls in Australia.
True: Kept quiet though.
For in olden days, we held whole continents.
False: And now no more.
You really are living in the past!
I mean, the point of it all,
Is you want people
To stop having fun -
And what sort of life would that be?
No music, no parties, no spills!
Even now,
If you're caught with someone's wife,
You'll end up in a mess.
Then where will honesty get you?
(Honesty in public life indeed!)
But if you can make of it
An act of sudden dementia or celebration,
Something human and exciting and sad too,
Or, best, some accredited professional therapy
And nature's way to by-pass trauma
- Why who'd dare challenge that?
True: Very funny, very funny.
And if he's still exposed on every front page,
How can he square his conscience then?
False: You don't imagine they should reproach themselves
For anything worse than getting caught?
True: Think of the disgrace!
What could be worse?
False: Would you really like to know?
Will you give in
If I can show you once and for all
Virtue doesn't pay?
True: I'd have to.
As if you possibly could!
False: Answer me this: what
Sort of men are
Our prominent politicians?
True: Shameless buggers.
False: And our majestic, learned judges?
True: Pompous, decrepid dangerous old buggers.
False: Right again. And the heads of industry?
True: Sick-rich fat-cat buggers!
False: You'll agree you've been talking nonsense?
Now what about our audience here?
Look at them carefully.
True: I am.
False: Well?
True: Most of them....
Yes....
He is...
And him...
And her...
And that smooth-faced dangler there -
And - I say! - how did they get in?
Him - well you know what they say about -
And -
Well, not all but...
False: But?
True: I give up.
O my dear fellow-fools,
I should have known better.
There's nothing left
But to admit defeat
And come over to you.
[They embrace]
THE WORD CONTEST
Alvis: The celebration is sufficient.
The woman and myself are still to be wed.
We will head home.
They will wonder why we delay so long.
Thor: What hurry is there? Halt a minute.
I want to know more, White-Nose.
To get so pale, do you bed with corpses?
To marry, is it possible for monster-spawn?
Alvis: I am Alvis - "All-Wise".
In the dark I dwell,
With the great stones underground.
From the Lord of Goats I look for no trouble.
Thor: The engagement was not of my arranging.
When the Gods gave her to you,
My permission was not sought. I was not present.
Yet I am her father, you need my full consent.
Alvis: Tell me then your name, newcomer,
If you are father of this fair one.
You are a traveller I take it.
In whose service do you slave?
Thor: I am Ving-Thor, son of Valhalla's bearded lord.
Widely and freely have I travelled in the world.
If I do not agree, do not accede,
You will never marry this maid.
Alvis: But you will agree. It is already arranged
For me to marry.
I wish for such a woman,
Not to live and lie alone.
Thor: Wise-One, I will honour your wish,
I will not oppose the arrangement,
If you can answer my enquiries,
Show me the width of your word-lore.
Since there is nothing you do not know,
Tell me, dwarf, tell me in detail,
What are the names of the Earth, of the out-stretched World,
In all the zones you have visited?
Alvis: Gods and humans, giants and elves,
All have different answers.
It is called "Earth" and "Wold" and "Ever-Green",
"Growing-Place", "Clay" and "Ground-Way".
Thor: And the Heaven, high above,
What names do you know for that?
Alvis: Gods and Vanes, giants and dwarves
All have different answers.
It is "Heaven" and "Arch" and "High-World",
"Roof" and "Windy-Work"; to us below "The Wet Vault"
Thor: And the Moon, as men call it,
What words do the different worlds use for that?
Alvis: The Gods and the Dead, the giants and the dwarves,
All, truly, vary their terms:
It is called "Ball" and "Bright Thing",
"Spinner" and "Whirler" and "Spacer-of-Months".
Thor: And the Sun, that we all see,
What names do you know for that?
Alvis: Truly the terms are many:
Elves and men, Gods and dwarves, all have their own:
It is "Sol" and "Sun" and "Wheel"
"All-Bright" and "Ever-Fiery".
Thor: And the clouds, the carriers of rain,
What words do the different worlds use for them?
Alvis: Dwarves and men, the Dead and the Gods
All answer differently.
They are "Wind-Ships" and "Weather-Power"
"Hope-of-Rain" and, below, "Helmets-of-Darkness".
Thor: What of the wind,
That is everywhere?
Alvis: Gods and men, giants and elves,
All have their own words:
It is called "Shouter" and "Squall-Blaster",
"Tumult" and "Toss-Horse".
Thor: And the Calm, can you tell me,
What words do the different worlds call it?
Alvis: Vanir and men, elves and dwarves,
All have their own words:
It is called "Slack-Wind" and "Stillness",
"Stifle", "Quietude", "Slow-Up".
Thor: And the Sea, we sail on,
What words do the different worlds have for that?
Alvis: Gods and men, giants and dwarves,
All have their own terms:
It is "Main" and "Monster-Home",
"Wave-Way" and "Water-World" and "The Deep".
Thor: What of fire, the fierce element,
Do you know its names?
Alvis: Vanir and men, their words vary,
So with Gods and giants, and the Dead:
They call it "Flame", "Flagrant" and "Flickerer",
"All-Taker", "Wolf" and "Eater-of-Bones", in Hell.
Thor: What of the flourishing forest
What words do the different worlds use for that?
Alvis: Gods and heroes, giants and elves,
All have their own names for it:
"Hill-Hair" and "High-Weed",
"Fire-Food" and "Fair-Wood".
Thor: What is Night, then, named,
In different worlds of words?
Alvis: Gods and men, giants and dwarves
All use their own words:
It is "Sleeper" and "Spinner-of-Dreams",
"Dark" and "Unlight" and even "Death".
Thor: And the seed that is sown in the field,
What words do the different worlds use for that?
Alvis: Gods and men, giants and elves,
All, truly, have different types:
"Barley", some, "Corn" or "Brew-Malt",
"Oats", "Growers" and "Groats" they have.
Thor: What then is Drink called, Dwarf,
In the different words of the worlds?
Alvis: Gods have "Beer", giants "Clear-Brew",
Men say "Ale"; "Mead"is the word in Hell;
"Full-Strength" the Vanir say,
And the Suttings call it their "Supper".
Thor: Never, never, have I met such a Name-Master,
Such a Word-wise Ruler of Words!
But my talk was a trick, look,
And my words have worked too.
See, Dwarf, the dawn has come -
you are turned to stone!
From the Old English Poem Christ I, lines 164-213
Mary and Joseph:
"O Joseph mine, Jacob's son, cousin of David, the famous King, must you now completely cast off my love, deny my devotion?"
"I am thoroughly and deeply disturbed, robbed of reputation; I have been made to endure many hurtful accusations on your account, much criticism and sarcasm. I have had to put up with ridicule and malicious comment. Worn down by it, I weep. Yet God can easily repair the sorrow of my heart, make good my loss. Oh, my own young bride and virgin, Mary!"
"Why do you complain and cry out so in dismay? I never before received any unfairness or sour suspicion from you, yet here you speak to me, as though you are filled with every evil feeling."
"I have suffered too many insults over this pregnancy. How can I refute the malicious gossip, or find any defence against the sneerers? It is widely known that I voluntarily accepted you from the lovely temple of God as a pure virgin, free of spoilment, but now that is altered by someone unknown. It does me no good, either to publish it or suppress it. If I speak out, then the daughter of David must die, in a hail of stones. Yet it's less thinkable, that I would cover up for it. To perjure myself would be to earn the contempt of every man, be spurned by all."
[Then the Virgin declared the mystery, and spoke thus:]
"I will tell the truth by the Son of the Creator, the Saviour of Souls - for I know no man on earth has been my mate, but I was privileged to gain greeting from Gabriel the Archangel of Heaven, who told me that the Spirit of Glory itself would fill me with light, and I would bear the Living Power, the son of Eternal God, the beautiful Lord. So I am made his vessel without stain, and the Holy Comforter has settled in me. So abandon all your sorry thoughts and give lasting thanks to the glorious Son of the Creator, that I have become his Mother, though still a virgin; you they will call his Father after the world's way. For the prophecy must be fulfilled in His person."
LORD DUNSANEY'S "THE MEN OF YARNITH"
Q. Hothrun Dath, what is happening?
A. The Famine. It has been with us a long time.
Q. And you cannot quell it?
A. At first, when we worked in the field, there we found Famine nibbling at the corn and chasing the cattle; but we drew water from our deep wells and threw it on his dry grey fur and drove him away. But he returned every day, he comes and tramples on our gardens and drags the cattle down by their throats; at night he scratches in the ground, killing even the roots of things.
Q. What is to be done?
A. Men say that if Yarni Zai knew how badly it is with us, he would call his Famine back, as perhaps he would. For many prayers go to the Gods in the evening - he may have missed among so many the prayers of the men of Yarnith. They think if someone would go and take our prayers to his feet, maybe he would notice and remember for an instant and call his Famine back.
Q. No other way?
A. There seems not. Even now, if we do not look out, Famine grabs at the children, or springs at the throats of men as they labour in the fields. But equally men fear to face the Lord of the whole earth...
Q. You are also frightened to seek Yarni Zai?
A. I do not think I am, now. At night I can hear Famine whining outside my house, pawing at the door. I would rather come face to face with the Gods than stay and listen to that.
Q. How will you know where to go?
A. All the graves of men point to Yarni Zai. Men in Yarnith are buried with their feet and faces turned to the God, lest he beckon them in the night and call them to Him. What I must do is follow the way of the graves, to where all the world slopes upwards towards Yodeth.
Q. This great black valley is Yodeth?
A. Yes. This stillness surely is the stillness of Yarni Zai, that lay around about him before he clothed himself with rocks to form this first dead world, before ever animals were, or mankind!
Q. It is an awesome place. Must you proceed?
A. Not so bad now the dawn is coming. Here at the end of the valley should be Yarni Zai, for our legends show him as a vast power of stone, seated in rock with his hand ever uplifted.
Q. Can you see him then?
A. There is so much mist. Look, this very rock must be his foot! Let me stand here and pray. For, Lord, if You knew how terribly Famine works against us, how Death exceeds his powers, surely, O Master of the World, you would act to free us, to spare us!
Q. The morning mist is clearing from his figure. Can you see any sign?
A. No... Yes...
Q. What is it?
A. Not what I expected. What I see is the marks of instruments of carving here all round his feet.
Q. On the figure of your God?
A. Not a God, oh no - Yarni Zai is a statue only! Look at it, colossal, motionless in the risking sun, but a statue is all it is, something man once made in his own image. Now indeed we are lost!
Q. Why, lost?
A. What is there can help us now?
Q. Certainly there is little point in staying here like this. What will you tell the men of Yarnith?
A. If I go home? Why, that there are no Gods, and all the world is lost!
Q. Is it as terrible as that?
A. How?
Q. If Yarni Zai is no God, then there is no power in Yarnith mightier than mankind - is that not so?
A. If man is the lord of Yarnith, who is this Famine that he bares his teeth at us? Is that what I must say?
Q. Will they listen?
A. Yes, they must. They do. If there is to be no help from Yarni Zai, then it must be our own strength, our own devising, that saves our land or fails.
Q. Is it working?
A. Yes, we have dug deeper wells, we have killed the stock we cannot feed, for our own food, and the few seek pasture higher up and further off. Some men and women still die, but few enough and fewer; nearly we have driven the Famine away. We have all but achieved for ourselves what we scarcely dared hope the God would do, himself.
Q. So it is evening again. What is that sound?
A. Why, it is the whisper of rain! The million whispers of rain, faint and far-off! That almost-forgotten sound!
Q. You are right. The Famine must run away at last, I do not think it will return. I wish you peace and prosperity for ever.
A. A thousand years have passed across the graves of those that fell in Yarnith by the Famine - never has it come again.
Q. And still they pray to Yarni Zai?
A. So it is. For maybe the prayers roll upward from his image and find at last the other gods (or that God who sits behind the others), of whom we know nothing in our world. How can we doubt what we know so little of?
A CAPITAL POEM FOR DOCTORS
by Sean O Huigin
HAS THE DOCTOR LEFT
IS THE DOCTOR GONE AWAY
DO YOU NEED A DOCTOR
NO THE DOCTOR WAS HERE
ARE YOU THE DOCTOR
DID SOMEONE WANT A DOCTOR
IS THIS THE DOCTOR
WHEN WILL THE DOCTOR GET HERE
I AM NOT THE DOCTOR
WHERE IS THE DOCTOR
WHY DOESN'T SOMEONE GET THE DOCTOR
DID YOU CALL THE DOCTOR
WHO NEEDS THE DOCTOR
WHERE IS THE DOCTOR NEEDED
WHAT KIND OF DOCTOR ARE YOU
THIS IS NOT THE DOCTOR
THIS IS NOT THE DOCTOR'S BAG
THE DOCTOR ISN'T HERE TODAY
I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DOCTOR
I AM STUDYING TO BE A DOCTOR
THERE'S THE DOCTOR
THE DOCTOR IS IN THE WASHROOM
MAKE WAY FOR THE DOCTOR
DID YOU WANT A DOCTOR
THERE IS NO DOCTOR HERE
THE DOCTOR IS COMING
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