# Potiphar's Wife and Other Poems/The "No" Dance

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