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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Japanese Prints, by John Gould Fletcher
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Japanese Prints
+
+Author: John Gould Fletcher
+
+Illustrator: Dorothy Pulis Lathrop
+
+Release Date: November 8, 2008 [EBook #27199]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAPANESE PRINTS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------+
+  | TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES                                    |
+  |                                                        |
+  | The letter o with a macron is represented as o[u].     |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+_Japanese Prints_
+
+
+  +--------------------------------------------------------+
+  | By John Gould Fletcher                                 |
+  |                                                        |
+  | Japanese Prints                                        |
+  | Goblins and Pagodas                                    |
+  | Irradiations: Sand and Spray                           |
+  +--------------------------------------------------------+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Of what is she dreaming?
+     Of long nights lit with orange lanterns,
+     Of wine-cups and compliments and kisses of the two-sword men."
+
+
+
+
+_Japanese Prints_
+
+_By_
+
+_John Gould Fletcher_
+
+
+_With Illustrations By
+Dorothy Pulis Lathrop_
+
+[Illustration]
+
+_Boston_
+_The Four Seas Company_
+_1918_
+
+
+_Copyright, 1918, by
+The Four Seas Company_
+
+_The Four Seas Press
+Boston, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+
+_To My Wife_
+
+_Granted this dew-drop world be but a dew-drop world,
+This granted, yet--_
+
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+
+PREFACE                                                   11
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     Lovers Embracing                                     21
+     A Picnic Under the Cherry Trees                      22
+     Court Lady Standing Under Cherry Tree                23
+     Court Lady Standing Under a Plum Tree                24
+     A Beautiful Woman                                    25
+     A Reading                                            26
+     An Actor as a Dancing Girl                           27
+     Josan No Miya                                        28
+     An Oiran and Her Kamuso                              29
+     Two Ways Of Love                                     30
+     Kurenai-ye or "Red Picture"                          31
+     A Woman Standing by a Gate with an Umbrella          32
+     Scene from a Drama                                   33
+     A Woman in Winter Costume                            34
+     A Pedlar                                             35
+     Kiyonobu and Kiyomasu Contrasted                     36
+     An Actor                                             37
+
+
+PART II.
+
+     Memory and Forgetting                                41
+     Pillar-Print, Masonobu                               42
+     The Young Daimyo                                     43
+     Masonubu--Early                                      44
+     The Beautiful Geisha                                 45
+     A Young Girl                                         46
+     The Heavenly Poetesses                               47
+     The Old Love and The New                             48
+     Fugitive Thoughts                                    49
+     Disappointment                                       50
+     The Traitor                                          51
+     The Fop                                              52
+     Changing Love                                        53
+     In Exile                                             54
+     The True Conqueror                                   55
+     Spring Love                                          56
+     The Endless Lament                                   57
+     Toyonobu. Exile's Return                             58
+     Wind and Chrysanthemum                               59
+     The Endless Pilgrimage                               60
+
+
+PART III.
+
+     The Clouds                                           63
+     Two Ladies Contrasted                                64
+     A Night Festival                                     65
+     Distant Coasts                                       66
+     On the Banks of the Sumida                           67
+     Yoshiwara Festival                                   68
+     Sharaku Dreams                                       69
+     A Life                                               70
+     Dead Thoughts                                        71
+     A Comparison                                         72
+     Mutability                                           73
+     Despair                                              74
+     The Lonely Grave                                     75
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+     Evening Sky                                          79
+     City Lights                                          80
+     Fugitive Beauty                                      81
+     Silver Jars                                          82
+     Evening Rain                                         83
+     Toy-Boxes                                            84
+     Moods                                                85
+     Grass                                                86
+     A Landscape                                          87
+     Terror                                               88
+     Mid-Summer Dusk                                      89
+     Evening Bell from a Distant Temple                   90
+     A Thought                                            91
+     The Stars                                            92
+     Japan                                                93
+     Leaves                                               94
+
+
+
+
+_List of Illustrations_
+
+
+"Of what is she dreaming?
+ Of long nights lit with orange lanterns,
+ Of wine-cups and compliments and kisses
+   of the two-sword men."                       Frontispiece
+
+HEADPIECE--PART I                                         19
+
+TAILPIECE--PART I                                         37
+
+HEADPIECE--PART II                                        39
+
+"Out of the rings and the bubbles,
+ The curls and the swirls of the water,
+ Out of the crystalline shower of drops shattered in play,
+ Her body and her thoughts arose."                        46
+
+"The cranes have come back to the temple,
+ The winds are flapping the flags about,
+ Through a flute of reeds
+ I will blow a song."                                     58
+
+TAILPIECE--PART II                                        60
+
+HEADPIECE--PART III                                       61
+
+"Then in her heart they grew,
+ The snows of changeless winter,
+ Stirred by the bitter winds of unsatisfied desire."      70
+
+TAILPIECE--PART III                                       75
+
+HEADPIECE--PART IV                                        77
+
+HEADPIECE--PART IV                                        94
+
+"The green and violet peacocks
+ Through the golden dusk
+ Stately, nostalgically,
+ Parade."                                            Endleaf
+
+
+
+
+_Preface_
+
+
+At the earliest period concerning which we have any accurate
+information, about the sixth century A. D., Japanese poetry already
+contained the germ of its later development. The poems of this early
+date were composed of a first line of five syllables, followed by a
+second of seven, followed by a third of five, and so on, always ending
+with a line of seven syllables followed by another of equal number. Thus
+the whole poem, of whatever length (a poem of as many as forty-nine
+lines was scarce, even at that day) always was composed of an odd number
+of lines, alternating in length of syllables from five to seven, until
+the close, which was an extra seven syllable line. Other rules there
+were none. Rhyme, quantity, accent, stress were disregarded. Two vowels
+together must never be sounded as a diphthong, and a long vowel counts
+for two syllables, likewise a final "n", and the consonant "m" in some
+cases.
+
+This method of writing poetry may seem to the reader to suffer from
+serious disadvantages. In reality this was not the case. Contrast it for
+a moment with the undignified welter of undigested and ex parte
+theories which academic prosodists have tried for three hundred years to
+foist upon English verse, and it will be seen that the simple Japanese
+rule has the merit of dignity. The only part of it that we Occidentals
+could not accept perhaps, with advantage to ourselves, is the peculiarly
+Oriental insistence on an odd number of syllables for every line and an
+odd number of lines to every poem. To the Western mind, odd numbers
+sound incomplete. But to the Chinese (and Japanese art is mainly a
+highly-specialized expression of Chinese thought), the odd numbers are
+masculine and hence heavenly; the even numbers feminine and hence
+earthy. This idea in itself, the antiquity of which no man can tell,
+deserves no less than a treatise be written on it. But the place for
+that treatise is not here.
+
+To return to our earliest Japanese form. Sooner or later this
+crystallized into what is called a tanka or short ode. This was always
+five lines in length, constructed syllabically 5, 7, 5, 7, 7, or
+thirty-one syllables in all. Innumerable numbers of these tanka were
+written. Gradually, during the feudal period, improvising verses became
+a pastime in court circles. Some one would utter the first three lines
+of a tanka and some one else would cap the composition by adding the
+last two. This division persisted. The first hemistich which was
+composed of 17 syllables grew to be called the hokku, the second or
+finishing hemistich of 14 syllables was called ageku. Thus was born the
+form which is more peculiarly Japanese than any other, and which only
+they have been able to carry to perfection.
+
+Composing hokku might, however, have remained a mere game of elaborate
+literary conceits and double meanings, but for the genius of one man.
+This was the great Basho[u] (1644-1694) who may be called certainly the
+greatest epigrammatist of any time. During a life of extreme and
+voluntary self-denial and wandering, Basho[u] contrived to obtain over a
+thousand disciples, and to found a school of hokku writing which has
+persisted down to the present day. He reformed the hokku, by introducing
+into everything he wrote a deep spiritual significance underlying the
+words. He even went so far as to disregard upon occasion the syllabic
+rule, and to add extraneous syllables, if thereby he might perfect his
+statement. He set his face sternly against impromptus, _poemes
+d'occasion_, and the like. The number of his works were not large, and
+even these he perpetually sharpened and polished. His influence
+persisted for long after his death. A disciple and priest of Zen
+Buddhism himself, his work is permeated with the feeling of that
+doctrine.
+
+Zen Buddhism, as Basho[u] practised it, may be called religion under the
+forms of nature. Everything on earth, from the clouds in the sky to the
+pebble by the roadside, has some spiritual or ethical significance for
+us. Blake's words describe the aim of the Zen Buddhist as well as any
+one's:
+
+    "To see a World in a grain of sand,
+    And a Heaven in a wild flower;
+    Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
+    And Eternity in an hour."
+
+Basho[u] would have subscribed to this as the sole rule of poetry and
+imagination. The only difference between the Western and the Eastern
+mystic is that where one sees the world in the grain of sand and tells
+you all about it, the other sees and lets his silence imply that he
+knows its meaning. Or to quote Lao-tzu: "Those who speak do not know,
+those who know do not speak." It must always be understood that there is
+an implied continuation to every Japanese hokku. The concluding
+hemistich, whereby the hokku becomes the tanka, is existent in the
+writer's mind, but never uttered.
+
+Let us take an example. The most famous hokku that Basho[u] wrote, might
+be literally translated thus:
+
+    "An old pond
+    And the sound of a frog leaping
+    Into the water."
+
+This means nothing to the Western mind. But to the Japanese it means all
+the beauty of such a life of retirement and contemplation as Basho[u]
+practised. If we permit our minds to supply the detail Basho[u]
+deliberately omitted, we see the mouldering temple enclosure, the sage
+himself in meditation, the ancient piece of water, and the sound of a
+frog's leap--passing vanity--slipping into the silence of eternity. The
+poem has three meanings. First it is a statement of fact. Second, it is
+an emotion deduced from that. Third, it is a sort of spiritual allegory.
+And all this Basho[u] has given us in his seventeen syllables.
+
+All of Basho[u]'s poems have these three meanings. Again and again we
+get a sublime suggestion out of some quite commonplace natural fact. For
+instance:
+
+    "On the mountain-road
+    There is no flower more beautiful
+    Than the wild violet."
+
+The wild violet, scentless, growing hidden and neglected among the rocks
+of the mountain-road, suggested to Basho[u] the life of the Buddhist
+hermit, and thus this poem becomes an exhortation to "shun the world, if
+you would be sublime."
+
+I need not give further examples. The reader can now see for himself
+what the main object of the hokku poetry is, and what it achieved. Its
+object was some universalized emotion derived from a natural fact. Its
+achievement was the expression of that emotion in the fewest possible
+terms. It is therefore necessary, if poetry in the English tongue is
+ever to attain again to the vitality and strength of its beginnings,
+that we sit once more at the feet of the Orient and learn from it how
+little words can express, how sparingly they should be used, and how
+much is contained in the meanest natural object. Shakespeare, who could
+close a scene of brooding terror with the words: "But see, the morn in
+russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill" was
+nearer to the oriental spirit than we are. We have lost Shakespeare's
+instinct for nature and for fresh individual vision, and we are
+unwilling to acquire it through self-discipline. If we do not want art
+to disappear under the froth of shallow egotism, we must learn the
+lesson Basho[u] can teach us.
+
+That is not to say, that, by taking the letter for the spirit, we should
+in any way strive to imitate the hokku form. Good hokkus cannot be
+written in English. The thing we have to follow is not a form, but a
+spirit. Let us universalize our emotions as much as possible, let us
+become impersonal as Shakespeare or Basho[u] was. Let us not gush about
+our fine feelings. Let us admit that the highest and noblest feelings
+are things that cannot be put into words. Therefore let us conceal them
+behind the words we have chosen. Our definition of poetry would then
+become that of Edwin Arlington Robinson, that poetry is a language which
+tells through a reaction upon our emotional natures something which
+cannot be put into words. Unless we set ourselves seriously to the task
+of understanding that language is only a means and never an end, poetic
+art will be dead in fifty years, from a surfeit of superficial
+cleverness and devitalized realism.
+
+In the poems that follow I have taken as my subjects certain designs of
+the so-called Uki-oye (or Passing World) school. These prints, made and
+produced for purely popular consumption by artists who, whatever their
+genius, were despised by the literati of their time, share at least one
+characteristic with Japanese poetry, which is, that they exalt the most
+trivial and commonplace subjects into the universal significance of
+works of art. And therefore I have chosen them to illustrate my
+doctrine, which is this: that one must learn to do well small things
+before doing things great; that the universe is just as much in the
+shape of a hand as it is in armies, politics, astronomy, or the
+exhortations of gospel-mongers; that style and technique rest on the
+thing conveyed and not the means of conveyance; and that though
+sentiment is a good thing, understanding is a better. As for the poems
+themselves they are in some cases not Japanese at all, but all
+illustrate something of the charm I have found in Japanese poetry and
+art. And if they induce others to seek that charm for themselves, my
+purpose will have been attained.
+
+JOHN GOULD FLETCHER.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Part I_
+
+
+
+
+_Lovers Embracing_
+
+
+    Force and yielding meet together:
+    An attack is half repulsed.
+    Shafts of broken sunlight dissolving
+    Convolutions of torpid cloud.
+
+
+
+
+_A Picnic Under the Cherry Trees_
+
+
+    The boat drifts to rest
+    Under the outward spraying branches.
+
+    There is faint sound of quavering strings,
+    The reedy murmurs of a flute,
+    The soft sigh of the wind through silken garments;
+
+    All these are mingled
+    With the breeze that drifts away,
+    Filled with thin petals of cherry blossom,
+    Like tinkling laughter dancing away in sunlight.
+
+
+
+
+_Court Lady Standing Under Cherry Tree_
+
+
+    She is an iris,
+    Dark purple, pale rose,
+    Under the gnarled boughs
+    That shatter their stars of bloom.
+    She waves delicately
+    With the movement of the tree.
+
+    Of what is she dreaming?
+
+    Of long nights lit with orange lanterns,
+    Of wine cups and compliments and kisses of the two-sword men.
+    And of dawn when weary sleepers
+    Lie outstretched on the mats of the palace,
+    And of the iris stalk that is broken in the fountain.
+
+
+
+
+_Court Lady Standing Under a Plum Tree_
+
+
+    Autumn winds roll through the dry leaves
+    On her garments;
+    Autumn birds shiver
+    Athwart star-hung skies.
+    Under the blossoming plum-tree,
+    She expresses the pilgrimage
+    Of grey souls passing,
+    Athwart love's scarlet maples
+    To the ash-strewn summit of death.
+
+
+
+
+_A Beautiful Woman_
+
+
+    Iris-amid-clouds
+    Must be her name.
+
+    Tall and lonely as the mountain-iris,
+    Cold and distant.
+
+    She has never known longing:
+    Many have died for love of her.
+
+
+
+
+_A Reading_
+
+
+    "And the prince came to the craggy rock
+    But saw only hissing waves
+    So he rested all day amid them."
+
+    He listens idly,
+    He is content with her voice.
+
+    He dreams it is the murmur
+    Of distant wave-caps breaking
+    Upon the painted screen.
+
+
+
+
+_An Actor as a Dancing Girl_
+
+
+    The peony dancer
+    Swirls orange folds of dusty robes
+    Through the summer.
+
+    They are spotted with thunder showers,
+    Falling upon the crimson petals.
+
+    Heavy blooms
+    Breaking and spilling fiery cups
+    Drowsily.
+
+
+
+
+_Josan No Miya_
+
+
+    She is a fierce kitten leaping in sunlight
+    Towards the swaying boughs.
+
+    She is a gust of wind,
+    Bending in parallel curves the boughs of the willow-tree.
+
+
+
+
+_An Oiran and her Kamuso_
+
+
+    Gilded hummingbirds are whizzing
+    Through the palace garden,
+    Deceived by the jade petals
+    Of the Emperor's jewel-trees.
+
+
+
+
+_Two Ways of Love_
+
+
+    The wind half blows her robes,
+    That subside
+    Listlessly
+    As swaying pines.
+
+    The wind tosses hers
+    In circles
+    That recoil upon themselves:
+    How should I love--as the swaying or tossing wind?
+
+
+
+
+_Kurenai-ye or "Red Picture"_
+
+
+    She glances expectantly
+    Through the pine avenue,
+    To the cherry-tree summit
+    Where her lover will appear.
+
+    Faint rose anticipation colours her,
+    And sunset;
+    She is a cherry-tree that has taken long to bloom.
+
+
+
+
+_A Woman Standing by a Gate with an Umbrella_
+
+
+    Late summer changes to autumn:
+    Chrysanthemums are scattered
+    Behind the palings.
+
+    Gold and vermilion
+    The afternoon.
+
+    I wait here dreaming of vermilion sunsets:
+    In my heart is a half fear of the chill autumn rain.
+
+
+
+
+_Scene from a Drama_
+
+
+    The daimyo and the courtesan
+    Compliment each other.
+
+    He invites her to walk out through the maples,
+    She half refuses, hiding fear in her heart.
+
+    Far in the shadow
+    The daimyo's attendant waits,
+    Nervously fingering his sword.
+
+
+
+
+_A Woman in Winter Costume_
+
+
+    She is like the great rains
+    That fall over the earth in winter-time.
+
+    Wave on wave her heavy robes collapse
+    In green torrents
+    Lashed with slaty foam.
+
+    Downward the sun strikes amid them
+    And enkindles a lone flower;
+    A violet iris standing yet in seething pools of grey.
+
+
+
+
+_A Pedlar_
+
+
+    Gaily he offers
+    Packets of merchandise.
+
+    He is a harlequin of illusions,
+    His nimble features
+    Skip into smiles, like rainbows,
+    Cheating the villagers.
+
+    But in his heart all the while is another knowledge,
+    The sorrow of the bleakness of the long wet winter night.
+
+
+
+
+_Kiyonobu and Kiyomasu Contrasted_
+
+
+    One life is a long summer;
+    Tall hollyhocks stand proud upon its paths;
+    Little yellow waves of sunlight,
+    Bring scarlet butterflies.
+
+    Another life is a brief autumn,
+    Fierce storm-rack scrawled with lightning
+    Passed over it
+    Leaving the naked bleeding earth,
+    Stabbed with the swords of the rain.
+
+
+
+
+_An Actor_
+
+
+    He plots for he is angry,
+    He sneers for he is bold.
+
+    He clinches his fist
+    Like a twisted snake;
+    Coiling itself, preparing to raise its head,
+    Above the long grasses of the plain.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Part II_
+
+
+
+
+_Memory and Forgetting_
+
+
+    I have forgotten how many times he kissed me,
+    But I cannot forget
+    A swaying branch--a leaf that fell
+    To earth.
+
+
+
+
+_Pillar-Print, Masonobu_
+
+
+    He stands irresolute
+    Cloaking the light of his lantern.
+
+    Tonight he will either find new love or a sword-thrust,
+    But his soul is troubled with ghosts of old regret.
+
+    Like vines with crimson flowers
+    They climb
+    Upwards
+    Into his heart.
+
+
+
+
+_The Young Daimyo_
+
+
+    When he first came out to meet me,
+    He had just been girt with the two swords;
+    And I found he was far more interested in the glitter of their hilts,
+    And did not even compare my kiss to a cherry-blossom.
+
+
+
+
+_Masonubu--Early_
+
+
+    She was a dream of moons, of fluttering handkerchiefs,
+    Of flying leaves, of parasols,
+    A riddle made to break my heart;
+    The lightest impulse
+    To her was more dear than the deep-toned temple bell.
+    She fluttered to my sword-hilt an instant,
+    And then flew away;
+    But who will spend all day chasing a butterfly?
+
+
+
+
+_The Beautiful Geisha_
+
+
+    Swift waves hissing
+    Under the moonlight;
+    Tarnished silver.
+
+    Swaying boats
+    Under the moonlight,
+    Gold lacquered prows.
+
+    Is it a vision
+    Under the moonlight?
+    No, it is only
+    A beautiful geisha swaying down the street.
+
+
+
+
+_A Young Girl_
+
+
+    Out of the rings and the bubbles,
+    The curls and the swirls of the water,
+    Out of the crystalline shower of drops shattered in play,
+    Her body and her thoughts arose.
+
+    She dreamed of some lover
+    To whom she might offer her body
+    Fresh and cool as a flower born in the rain.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_The Heavenly Poetesses_
+
+
+    In their bark of bamboo reeds
+    The heavenly poetesses
+    Float across the sky.
+
+    Poems are falling from them
+    Swift as the wind that shakes the lance-like bamboo leaves;
+    The stars close around like bubbles
+    Stirred by the silver oars of poems passing.
+
+
+
+
+_The Old Love and the New_
+
+
+    Beware, for the dying vine can hold
+    The strongest oak.
+
+    Only by cutting at the root
+    Can love be altered.
+
+    Late in the night
+    A rosy glimmer yet defies the darkness.
+
+    But the evening is growing late,
+    The blinds are being lowered;
+    She who held your heart and charmed you
+    Is only a rosy glimmer of flame remembered.
+
+
+
+
+_Fugitive Thoughts_
+
+
+    My thoughts are sparrows passing
+    Through one great wave that breaks
+    In bubbles of gold on a black motionless rock.
+
+
+
+
+_Disappointment_
+
+
+    Rain rattles on the pavement,
+    Puddles stand in the bluish stones;
+    Afar in the Yoshiwara
+    Is she who holds my heart.
+
+    Alas, the torn lantern of my hope
+    Trembles and sputters in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+_The Traitor_
+
+
+    I saw him pass at twilight;
+    He was a dark cloud travelling
+    Over palace roofs
+    With one claw drooping.
+
+    In his face were written ages
+    Of patient treachery
+    And the knowledge of his hour.
+
+    One dainty thrust, no more
+    Than this, he needs.
+
+
+
+
+_The Fop_
+
+
+    His heart is like a wind
+    Torn between cloud and butterfly;
+    Whether he will roll passively to one,
+    Or chase endlessly the other.
+
+
+
+
+_Changing Love_
+
+
+    My love for her at first was like the smoke that drifts
+    Across the marshes
+    From burning woods.
+
+    But, after she had gone,
+    It was like the lotus that lifts up
+    Its heart shaped buds from the dim waters.
+
+
+
+
+_In Exile_
+
+
+    My heart is mournful as thunder moving
+    Through distant hills
+    Late on a long still night of autumn.
+
+    My heart is broken and mournful
+    As rain heard beating
+    Far off in the distance
+    While earth is parched more near.
+
+    On my heart is the black badge of exile;
+    I droop over it,
+    I accept its shame.
+
+
+
+
+_The True Conqueror_
+
+
+    He only can bow to men
+    Lofty as a god
+    To those beneath him,
+    Who has taken sins and sorrows
+    And whose deathless spirit leaps
+    Beneath them like a golden carp in the torrent.
+
+
+
+
+_Spring Love_
+
+
+    Through the weak spring rains
+    Two lovers walk together,
+    Holding together the parasol.
+
+    But the laughing rains of spring
+    Will break the weak green shoots of their love.
+
+    His will grow a towering stalk,
+    Hers, a cowering flower under it.
+
+
+
+
+_The Endless Lament_
+
+
+    Spring rain falls through the cherry blossom,
+    In long blue shafts
+    On grasses strewn with delicate stars.
+
+    The summer rain sifts through the drooping willow,
+    Shatters the courtyard
+    Leaving grey pools.
+
+    The autumn rain drives through the maples
+    Scarlet threads of sorrow,
+    Towards the snowy earth.
+
+    Would that the rains of all the winters
+    Might wash away my grief!
+
+
+
+
+_Toyonobu. Exile's Return_
+
+
+    The cranes have come back to the temple,
+    The winds are flapping the flags about,
+    Through a flute of reeds
+    I will blow a song.
+
+    Let my song sigh as the breeze through the cryptomerias,
+    And pause like long flags flapping,
+    And dart and flutter aloft, like a wind-bewildered crane.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Wind and Chrysanthemum_
+
+
+    Chrysanthemums bending
+    Before the wind.
+
+    Chrysanthemums wavering
+    In the black choked grasses.
+
+    The wind frowns at them,
+    He tears off a green and orange stalk of broken chrysanthemum.
+
+    The chrysanthemums spread their flattered heads,
+    And scurry off before the wind.
+
+
+
+
+_The Endless Pilgrimage_
+
+
+    Storm-birds of autumn
+    With draggled wings:
+
+    Sleet-beaten, wind-tattered, snow-frozen,
+    Stopping in sheer weariness
+    Between the gnarled red pine trees
+    Twisted in doubt and despair;
+
+    Whence do you come, pilgrims,
+    Over what snow fields?
+    To what southern province
+    Hidden behind dim peaks, would you go?
+
+    "Too long were the telling
+    Wherefore we set out;
+    And where we will find rest
+    Only the Gods may tell."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Part III_
+
+
+
+
+_The Clouds_
+
+
+    Although there was no sound in all the house,
+    I could not forbear listening for the cry of those long white rippling waves
+    Dragging up their strength to break on the sullen beach of the sky.
+
+
+
+
+_Two Ladies Contrasted_
+
+
+    The harmonies of the robes of this gay lady
+    Are like chants within a temple sweeping outwards
+    To the morn.
+
+    But I prefer the song of the wind by a stream
+    Where a shy lily half hides itself in the grasses;
+    To the night of clouds and stars and wine and passion,
+    In a palace of tesselated restraint and splendor.
+
+
+
+
+_A Night Festival_
+
+
+    Sparrows and tame magpies chatter
+    In the porticoes
+    Lit with many a lantern.
+
+    There is idle song,
+    Scandal over full wine cups,
+    Sorrow does not matter.
+
+    Only beyond the still grey shoji
+    For the breadth of innumerable countries,
+    Is the sea with ships asleep
+    In the blue-black starless night.
+
+
+
+
+_Distant Coasts_
+
+
+    A squall has struck the sea afar off.
+    You can feel it quiver
+    Over the paper parasol
+    With which she shields her face;
+
+    In the drawn-together skirts of her robes,
+    As she turns to meet it.
+
+
+
+
+_On the Banks of the Sumida_
+
+
+    Windy evening of autumn,
+    By the grey-green swirling river,
+    People are resting like still boats
+    Tugging uneasily at their cramped chains.
+
+    Some are moving slowly
+    Like the easy winds:
+
+    Brown-blue, dull-green, the villages in the distance
+    Sleep on the banks of the river:
+    The waters sullenly clash and murmur.
+    The chatter of the passersby,
+    Is dulled beneath the grey unquiet sky.
+
+
+
+
+_Yoshiwara Festival_
+
+
+    The green and violet peacocks
+    With golden tails
+    Parade.
+
+    Beneath the fluttering jangling streamers
+    They walk
+    Violet and gold.
+
+    The green and violet peacocks
+    Through the golden dusk
+    Showered upon them from the vine-hung lanterns,
+    Stately, nostalgically,
+    Parade.
+
+
+
+
+_Sharaku Dreams_
+
+
+    I will scrawl on the walls of the night
+    Faces.
+
+    Leering, sneering, scowling, threatening faces;
+    Weeping, twisting, yelling, howling faces;
+    Faces fixed in a contortion between a scream and a laugh,
+    Meaningless faces.
+
+    I will cover the walls of night
+    With faces,
+    Till you do not know
+    If these faces are but masks, or you the masks for them.
+
+    Faces too grotesque for laughter,
+    Faces too shattered by pain for tears,
+    Faces of such ugliness
+    That the ugliness grows beauty.
+
+    They will haunt you morning, evening,
+    Burning, burning, ever returning.
+    Their own infamy creating,
+    Till you strike at life and hate it,
+    Burn your soul up so in hating.
+
+    I will scrawl on the walls of the night
+    Faces,
+    Pitiless,
+    Flaring,
+    Staring.
+
+
+
+
+_A Life_
+
+
+    Her life was like a swiftly rushing stream
+    Green and scarlet,
+    Falling into darkness.
+
+    The seasons passed for her,
+    Like pale iris wilting,
+    Or peonies flying to ribbons before the storm-gusts.
+    The sombre pine-tops waited until the seasons had passed.
+
+    Then in her heart they grew
+    The snows of changeless winter
+    Stirred by the bitter winds of unsatisfied desire.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Dead Thoughts_
+
+
+    My thoughts are an autumn breeze
+    Lifting and hurrying
+    Dry rubbish about in a corner.
+
+    My thoughts are willow branches
+    Already broken
+    Motionless at twilight.
+
+
+
+
+_A Comparison_
+
+
+    My beloved is like blue smoke that rises
+    In long slow planes,
+    And wavers
+    Over the dark paths of old gardens long neglected.
+
+
+
+
+_Mutability_
+
+
+    The wind shakes the mists
+    Making them quiver
+    With faint drum-tones of thunder.
+
+    Out of the crane-haunted mists of autumn,
+    Blue and brown
+    Rolls the moon.
+
+    There was a city living here long ago,
+    Of all that city
+    There is only one stone left half-buried in the marsh,
+    With characters upon it which no one now can read.
+
+
+
+
+_Despair_
+
+
+    Despair hangs in the broken folds of my garments;
+    It clogs my footsteps,
+    Like snow in the cherry bloom.
+
+    In my heart is the sorrow
+    Of years like red leaves buried in snow.
+
+
+
+
+_The Lonely Grave_
+
+
+    Pilgrims will ascend the road in early summer,
+    Passing my tombstone
+    Mossy, long forgotten.
+
+    Girls will laugh and scatter cherry petals,
+    Sometimes they will rest in the twisted pine-trees' shade.
+
+    If one presses her warm lips to this tablet
+    The dust of my body will feel a thrill, deep down in the silent earth.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_Part IV_
+
+
+
+
+_Evening Sky_
+
+
+    The sky spreads out its poor array
+    Of tattered flags,
+    Saffron and rose
+    Over the weary huddle of housetops
+    Smoking their evening pipes in silence.
+
+
+
+
+_City Lights_
+
+
+    The city gleams with lights this evening
+    Like loud and yawning laughter from red lips.
+
+
+
+
+_Fugitive Beauty_
+
+
+    As the fish that leaps from the river,
+    As the dropping of a November leaf at twilight,
+    As the faint flicker of lightning down the southern sky,
+    So I saw beauty, far away.
+
+
+
+
+_Silver Jars_
+
+
+    I dreamed I caught your loveliness
+    In little silver jars:
+    And when you died I opened them,
+    And there was only soot within.
+
+
+
+
+_Evening Rain_
+
+
+    Rain fell so softly, in the evening,
+    I almost thought it was the trees that were talking.
+
+
+
+
+_Toy-Boxes_
+
+
+    Cities are the toy-boxes
+    Time plays with:
+    And there are often many doll-houses
+    Of which the dolls are lost.
+
+
+
+
+_Moods_
+
+
+    A poet's moods:
+    Fluttering butterflies in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+_Grass_
+
+
+    Grass moves in the wind,
+    My soul is backwards blown.
+
+
+
+
+_A Landscape_
+
+
+    Land, green-brown;
+    Sea, brown-grey;
+    Island, dull peacock blue;
+    Sky, stone-grey.
+
+
+
+
+_Terror_
+
+
+    Because of the long pallid petals of white chrysanthemums
+    Waving to and fro,
+    I dare not go.
+
+
+
+
+_Mid-Summer Dusk_
+
+
+    Swallows twittering at twilight:
+    Waves of heat
+    Churned to flames by the sun.
+
+
+
+
+_Evening Bell from a Distant Temple_
+
+
+    A bell in the fog
+    Creeps out echoing faintly
+    The pale broad flashes
+    Of vibrating twilight,
+    Faded gold.
+
+
+
+
+_A Thought_
+
+
+    A piece of paper ready to toss in the fire,
+    Blackened, scrawled with fragments of an incomplete song:
+    My soul.
+
+
+
+
+_The Stars_
+
+
+    There is a goddess who walks shrouded by day:
+    At night she throws her blue veil over the earth.
+    Men only see her naked glory through the little holes in the veil.
+
+
+
+
+_Japan_
+
+
+    An old courtyard
+    Hidden away
+    In the afternoon.
+    Grey walks,
+    Mossy stones,
+    Copper carp swimming lazily,
+    And beyond,
+    A faint toneless hissing echo of rain
+    That tears at my heart.
+
+
+
+
+_Leaves_
+
+
+    The splaying silhouette of horse-chestnut leaves
+    Against the tall and delicate, patrician-tinged sky
+    Like a princess in blue robes behind a grille of bronze.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+_An edition of 1000 copies only, of which 975 copies have been printed
+on Olde Style paper, and 25 copies on Japanese Vellum._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Japanese Prints, by John Gould Fletcher
+
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