# Anthology of Japanese Literature/Birds of Sorrow

Layout 2
​Birds of Sorrow
[Utō] by Seami Motokiyo
The original title of the play, “Utō,” is usually written in Japanese with three ideographs which may be loosely translated as “virtue-knowing bird.” The utō or utōyasukata of early legends is a species of sea bird found in northern Japan and widely hunted for the delectability of its flesh. According to tradition, the parent bird of the species hides its young so well in the sand that even it cannot find them and, when bringing them food, calls them with the cry “Utō,” to which they reply with the cry “Yasukata.” Hunters catch both parent birds and the young by imitating these cries. It is also said that the parent birds weep tears of blood upon seeing their young taken, and that hunters must wear large hats and raincloaks to protect themselves from the falling tears, the touch of which causes sickness and death. Because of its traits the bird becomes an apt symbol for the Buddhist tenet that the taking of life in any form whatsoever is a sin.
   Persons
   * A Buddhist Monk
   * The Ghost of a Dead Hunter
   * The Hunter’s Wife
   * The Hunter’s Child
   * A Villager
   * Chorus
Part I
Place: Tateyama, a high mountain in Central Honshū, near the Sea of Japan.
Time: The month of April.
    (The stage is completely bare. Two drummers and a flute player come through the curtain and, passing down the Bridge, take their usual seats at the rear of the stage. They are followed in silence by the Wife and Child. The Wife wears the mask and wig of a middle-aged woman; her inner kimono is the color of dried autumn leaves, over which is a kimono with a small pattern and a long outer kimono in somber colors which trails behind her on the floor. The Child, apparently six or eight years of age, wears a hakama and a brightly embroidered outer kimono over a scarlet inner kimono. They seat themselves near the Waki’s Pillar. The Monk enters, accompanied by the introductory flute music. He is wearing a dark kimono and a peaked cowl of brocade which flows down over his shoulders, and carries a rosary. He passes down the Bridge onto the stage, where he stops at the Name-Saying Seat and, facing the audience, introduces himself.)
Monk: I am a wandering monk, making a pilgrimage throughout the provinces. I have never yet visited the village of Soto no Hama in Michinoku. Thinking on this, I was recently minded to go to Soto no Hama. And as the occasion is indeed favorable, I am planning to stop in passing and practice religious austerities upon Tateyama.
    (Takes two steps forward, indicating he has arrived at the foot of the mountain.)
Coming swiftly along the road, already I have arrived here at Tateyama. With serene and reverent heart I now shall visit the mountain.
    (Goes to center of stage, indicating he has climbed to the summit.)
But lo! upon arriving here on Tateyama, my eyes do indeed behold a living Hell. And the heart of even the boldest man must quail before this fell sight, more frightful even than demons and fiends. Here the countless mountain trails, grim and precipitous, split asunder as if to lead down into the Realm of Ravenous Ghosts, and down into the Realm of Bestiality.
​(Describing his actions.) So saying, he is overcome with the memory of his past sins and for a time is unable to restrain the starting tears. Then, penitent, he descends to the foot of the mountain … to the foot of the mountain, penitent …
    (The Monk goes toward the Chorus, indicating he has returned to the foot of the mountain. He turns and faces the Bridge. The curtain is swept back and a voice is heard from the blackness of the Mirror Room beyond the curtain. It is the Ghost of the Dead Hunter who speaks, calling out as though he has been running after the Monk.)
Hunter: Hallo-o! Hallo-o! Wait, O worthy monk, for I must speak with you.
Monk: What is it you want with me?
    (The Hunter enters. He is seen now in his mortal form, wearing the mas of a pleasant old man and a white wig. He wears a plain, tea-colored outer kimono of rough weave over garments of solid brown and light green. He moves slowly down the Bridge as he speaks.)
Hunter: If you are going down to Michinoku, pray take a message there. I am one who was a hunter of Soto no Hama and who died in the past year’s autumn. I beseech you to visit the home of my wife and child and to tell them to offer up for me the cloak of straw and the sedge-hat which are there.
Monk: This is a strange request that I hear. To carry the message is a simple thing, but if I address her thus without any proof, like the falling of sudden rain from an empty sky, is it likely that she will believe?
Hunter: Indeed, you are right. Without some certain sign or token, it would surely be of no avail.
    (The Hunter has been advancing along the Bridge; he pauses now at the First Pine and bows his head dejectedly. Then an idea comes to him and he raises his head.)
​Ah! Now I remember—this was the kimono which I was wearing at the very hour of death.
(Describing his actions.) And thereupon he tears a sleeve from the kimono which he is wearing, a kimono made of hemp like that of Kiso long ago, and worn in the days of his life.
    (The Hunter removes the left sleeve of his kimono, touches it to his forehead, and then holds it out in both hands toward the Monk.)
Chorus: He says, “This give as a token.” And so saying, gives it with tears to the wandering monk … with tears, to the wandering monk….
    (The Monk goes to the Hunter at the First Pine and takes the sleeve, then turns and comes onto the stage, while the Hunter starts along the Bridge toward the curtain.)
They bid farewell. The footsteps of the monk lead away toward Michinoku, down through the flaming, budding trees of spring, far and far away, amid the rising smoke and clouds of Tateyama, until his figure too becomes like a wisp of cloud.
    (The Monk continues toward the front of the stage. The Hunter brings his hand to his forehead in a gesture of weeping. Then he turns around on the Bridge and looks long toward the stage, shading his eyes with his hand.)
The dead one weeps and weeps, watching the monk depart, and then vanishes, no one knows where … no one knows where….
    (The Hunter has turned and continued along the Bridge. Now the curtain is swept back and he moves into the blackness beyond the curtain.)
   Interlude
   Place: Soto no Hama, a fishing village on the northernmost coast of Honshū several hundred miles from Tateyama.
    (There has been a slight pause on the stage, during which time the Monk is understood to be traveling to Michinoku. Now he goes to the Name-Saying Seat, where he turns and addresses the actor who has been sitting motionless at the Kyōgen’s Seat during Part I.)
Monk: Are you a native of Soto no Hama?
    (The Villager rises and stands on the Bridge near the First Pine. He is wearing a simple plaid kimono and a kamishimo of brocade.)
Villager: Yes, I am. May I help you?
Monk: Please show me the house here of the hunter who died last autumn.
Villager: Why, of course. The dead hunter’s house is that one you see there inside that high stockade made of crisscrossed bamboo. You can reach it in a moment if you please.
Monk: I understand. Thank you for your kindness. I shall go there at once and pay a visit.
Villager: If there is anything else I can do for you, please say so.
Monk: Thank you very much.
Villager: You are very welcome.
    (The Villager resumes his seat. Later he makes an unobtrusive exit.)
   Part II
   Place: The home of the dead Hunter, both the interior and exterior being understood to be visible.
    (The Monk has moved to the Stage Attendant’s Pillar, where he pauses. The Wife speaks, as if to herself, from her seat at the Waki’s Pillar.)
Wife: Truly, long have I known this world to be a fleeting thing, becoming dreamlike even as it passes. But now more than ever before.
​To what avail was my troth plighted? Now death has cut the ties which bound me to my husband. And this beloved child, left behind him like a footstep at the parting, only makes my grief more endless…. Oh, how can a mother’s heart endure such sorrow?
    (The Wife makes a gesture of weeping. The Monk has put the sleeve which he held into the breastfold of his kimono and has been advancing slowly toward the stage. Reaching the Shite’s Pillar, he stops and turns toward the Wife, indicating he has reached the house.)
Monk: Pray let me in.
Wife: Who is there?
Monk: I am a wandering monk, making a pilgrimage throughout the provinces. While I was practicing religious austerities upon Tateyama there came a weird old man and said, “If you are going down to Michinoku, please take a message. I am one who was a hunter of Soto no Hama and who died in the past year’s autumn. Visit the home of my wife and child and tell them to offer up for me the cloak of straw and sedge-hat which are there.” I replied, “If I address her thus without any proof, out of a clear sky, she surely will not believe.” Thereupon he loosened and gave to me a sleeve of the hempen kimono he wore. I have journeyed and carried it with me until now. Perchance it is a token which will call memories to your heart.
Wife: Surely this is a dream. Or else a piteous thing. Like unto the song of the cuckoo, heard at early morning, bringing back from Hell a last message from the dead, so now with these tidings that I hear from my departed one. And even as I listen, the tears are springing in my eyes.
    (Making gesture of weeping.)
Nevertheless, it is too strange a thing, passing all belief. And therefore, crude though it be and lowly as cloth woven of wistaria bark, I will bring out his kimono….
    (A stage attendant comes to the Wife where she sits and gives her the folded kimono without a sleeve which the Hunter was wearing in Part I. She holds it up on her outstretched arms toward the Monk.)
Monk: That kimono long treasured as a memory of him … this sleeve long carried….
    (The Monk takes out the sleeve and holds it out toward the Wife.)
Wife: Upon taking them out….
Monk: … and comparing them well….
    (The Monk looks fixedly at the kimono which the Wife is holding.)
Chorus: … there can be no doubt left.
    (The Monk comes to the Wife and lays the sleeve in her arms upon the kimono. She bends her head over the articles, examining them closely, while the Chorus speaks for her.)
The cloth is the same—thin, crude stuff, for summer’s wearing … thin, crude stuff for summer’s wearing. And see! a sleeve is gone—this sleeve exactly fits…. It comes from him! O so dearly longed for….
    (The Wife bows low over the garments in a gesture of weeping. The Chorus now explains the actions of the Monk as he takes a large, black-lacquered hat from a stage attendant at the Flute Pillar, brings it to the very front of the stage and, placing it on the floor, kneels before it facing the audience.)
And forthwith does the Monk chant countless prayers of requiem. And especially, even as the dead one had entreated, does he offer up that very cloak of straw, offer up that very hat of sedge.
    (The Monk rubs his rosary between his palms over the hat and intones a Buddhist Sutra.)
​Monk: “Hail, O Spirit. May you be delivered from the endless round of incarnations. May you attain the instantaneous enlightenment of Buddhahood.”
    (Rising, the Monk goes and takes a seat near the Flute Pillar. There is an interval of music accompanied by cries of the drummers. The curtain is swept back and the Hunter appears, now in supernatural form. He wears a tragic mask of a gaunt old man, just human enough in appearance to be unearthly, and an unkempt black wig which flares wildly down over his shoulders. Over his outer kimono, dappled with white and gray, he wears a short apron made of white and brown feathers. He carries a long stick and a fan. He comes slowly down the Bridge, as though summoned by the Monk’s prayers. Reaching the Shite’s Pillar, he stops and chants an old poem.)
Hunter: “At Soto no Hama of Michinoku there is the sound of birds, tenderly calling, tenderly cherishing—‘Utō,’ sing the parents in the sky, ‘Yasukata,’ the young answer from the beaches.”
    (The Hunter makes a gesture indicating he is drawing near the house.)
Even as the Holy Sutra says, “Behold but once the sotoba, and be delivered for all time from the Three Evil Paths, beset by beasts and demons and hungry ghosts.” Truly then a sotoba is a blessed thing, a memorial tablet carved fivefold, the five elements of the Buddha Body, the mere sight of which can save. But how much more if it be a sotoba raised expressly for my own sake, if a requiem be said in my own name.
For even in the icy Hell of the Scarlet Lotus the Fire of Holy Wisdom is not extinguished. For even in the Hell of Raging Fire the Waters of Dharma still quench.
And, nevertheless, still the burden of sin heaps high upon this flesh…. When may this soul find peace? … When can the birds find their stolen young? … O the killing!
    (The Hunter turns and holds out his arms beseechingly toward the Monk.)
Chorus: In the sunlight of Buddha, the All Compassionate, the sins of man become like dew upon the grass: make the blessing-bestowing Sun to shine on me, O monk.
    (The Hunter drops his arms and turns back toward the audience. The Chorus now describes the locale, while the Hunter makes a slow tour round the stage, revisiting the scenes of his earthly life.)
The place is Michinoku. The place is Michinoku. And here, in a lonely fishing village, upon an inlet of the sea, fenced round as though on the Isle of Hedges—now by the interlacing lower branches of the pine trees which follow along the strand, now by the salt reeds which grow drooping and matted in the ebb and flow of the tide—here at Soto no Hama stands the rush-mat hut. A humble dwelling, its roof so sparsely thatched. But now when the moon shines through the thatch into the room—a home for one’s heart. Oh! truly a home for one’s heart.
    (The Hunter returns now to the Name-Saying Seat, where he leans motionless on his stick, looking toward the Wife and Child, indicating he has reached the house. The Wife and Child raise their heads and look toward the Hunter.)
Wife: Softly! the shape will vanish if you but say a single word.
    (They rise and the Wife leads the Child a few steps toward the Hunter, describing her actions.)
The mother and child clasp hands … and there is nought but weeping.
    (Leaving the Child standing, the Wife returns to her original position, kneels and weeps.)
Hunter: Alas! in other days this was the wife of my bed, the child of my heart. But now we are estranged forever—like the parent ​bird I cry “Utō” and, waiting with beating heart, never hear the answering “Yasukata.” Why? oh, why did I kill them? For even as my child is beloved, just so must the birds and beasts yearn for their young. And now when I long to stroke the hair of my son Chiyodō and say, “Oh, how I have missed thee!” …
    (The Hunter extends his arms and suddenly rushes toward the Child. But at each step of the Hunter, the Child falls back a step, as though some unseen object were keeping a fixed distance between them. It is the legendary cloud-barrier of earthly lusts which obscures the Sun of Buddha and prevents sinful spirits from visiting the earth. The Child takes a seat beside the Wife, and the Hunter returns to the center of the stage and stands with his back to the Wife and Child, indicating he has been unable to enter the house and can no longer see inside.)
Chorus: … the shadows of my earthly lusts do rush before my eyes—a cloud of grief now rolls between us, a grievous cloud now hangs about.
    (The Hunter makes a gesture of weeping.)
I cannot see him! Just now he was standing there, my child, sturdy and strong as a young pine….
Fugitive and fleeting … whither? … where? … I cannot find the hat—lost in the forests of the country of Tsu, in the shade of the spreading pine of Wada. I cannot reach the cloak—the flood tears, falling, drench my sleeves as might the spray from the waterfall at Minō. I cannot see the blessed sotoba.
    (The Hunter makes slow circles round the stage, indicating his efforts to see through the cloud, and then stamps his foot in frustration.)
Who is this that stands outside, unable to enter his own home, barred from his wife and child, from cloak and hat, yes even from the sotoba? … “Having returned to Matsushima, to Ojima, I do not see the rush-mat huts on the islands—the villages are ​desolate, by the waves laid waste.” … The song is old, but now it is I, I who cannot find, cannot enter the rush-mat hut….
The bird of Soto no Hama, unable to find its nest … raising its voice in grief … nought but weeping….
    (The Hunter circles slowly to the Shite’s Pillar, where he kneels and makes a gesture of weeping.)
The vague and boundless past, dreamlike…. It was from the ruin of these past pleasures, from these evil days, that I descended to the Yellow Springs, to the bitter waters of Hell….
    (Still kneeling, the Hunter raises his head.)
Hunter: My path of life led from birth far out beyond the four estates of man—I was neither scholar, farmer, artisan, nor merchant.
Chorus: Nor did I delight in life’s four pleasures—music nor chess, books nor paintings.
Hunter: There was only the coming of day, the coming of night—and the killing!
Chorus: Thoughtless, wasting the slow spring days in hunting—days meant for the leisurely enjoyment of living. But still the lust for killing was unappeased. And so when the nights of autumn became long and long, I kept them alight, sleepless, with my fishing flares.
Hunter: Unheedful of the ninety days of summer’s heat….
Chorus: … of the cold of winter’s mornings….
    (The Chorus now begins a description of the Hunter’s past life. The Hunter, still kneeling, gradually begins to look from side to side, slowly, as though seeing the scenes being described.)
“The hunter pursues the deer and does not see the mountains,” says the proverb. And truly so it was with me—thinking only of bait and snares, I was like one drugged by the day lily, oblivious to every pain of the body, to every sorrow of the heart. Lashed by wind and wave, even as is the great sand dune of ​Sue-no-Matsuyama … my garments wet and dripping as are the rocks which stand offshore, forever in the ebbing and flowing of the tide … coursing the beaches, crossing the sea even to the shores of the farther islands … my flesh burnt as though I had approached too near the salt-kilns of Chika….
Still and always I pursued my evil ways, forgetful of the days of retribution, heedless of all regret.
    (The Hunter touches his hands together in the conventional gesture which introduces a principal dance, bows his head and rises, grasping his stick. He begins gradually to keep rhythm with the music, but without yet moving from place.)
Now the ways of murdering birds are many, but this scheme by which these pitiful ones are taken….
Hunter: … can there be one more heartless than this?
    (The Hunter now begins moving slowly about the stage, searching, keeping time with the music.)
Chorus: You stupid, foolish bird! If only you had built your nest with feathers, high in the treetops of the forests, forests dense as that which lies about the Peak of Tsukuba … if only you had woven floating cradles upon the waves…. But no! here upon the beaches, as broad and sandy as those upon which wild geese settle for a moment’s rest in their northward flight, you raise your young. And here, O bird of sorrow, you think to hide them. But then I, calling “Utō,” come … they answer “Yasukata” … and the nestlings are taken. It is as simple as this!
    (Still searching, the Hunter has started toward the Bridge, but when the Chorus gives the cry of “Utō” he pauses at the Name-Saying Seat and listens. And at the cry “Yasukata” he whirls back toward the stage, as though hearing the birds in the nest. He stamps his foot once and in the midst of a profound silence gives the bird call.)
Hunter: Utō!
    (The Hunter strikes the stage with his stick and begins a pantomime of the hunt which preceded his death. The dance begins slowly with the discovery and pursuit of the birds and gradually mounts in ferocity to their capture and killing. At first the Hunter raises his stick in the direction of the Waki’s Pillar, as though the imaginary birds are concealed in that vicinity, and brings it down to frighten them from the nest. The young birds are then understood to run toward the Bridge. He follows and, stopping near the Bridge, turns his body in an arc as though searching the horizon. Finally discovering the birds near the First Pine, he again flushes them with a wave of his stick. They run toward the front of the stage, with the Hunter in pursuit, wildly brandishing his stick. He catches up with them near the hat, which is still at the front of the stage, and brings his stick down with two sharp blows upon the stage, indicating the killing of the birds. Then he closes the movement with two stamps of the feet.)
Chorus: From the sky the parent bird is weeping tears of blood.
    (The emotion of the dance now suddenly changes. The Hunter falls back a few steps and looks up fearfully. Then, hurling away his stick, he runs and snatches up the hat.)
From the sky fall tears of blood. And I, covering myself with the sedge-hat, with the cloak of straw, try to escape the falling tears, dodging now this way, now that.
    (Holding the hat in both hands above his head and moving it rapidly from side to side. Then sinking for a moment to his knees.)
But alas! these are not the enchanted cloak and hat which make invisible their wearer.
    (Rising and moving toward the Waki’s Pillar.)
Faster and faster fall the tears of blood, until my body cannot escape their mortal touch, until the world turns crimson before ​my eyes—crimson as the fabled Bridge of Maple Leaves, formed of magpie wings across the sky and at the dawn stained red by the tears of two parting lover-stars.
    (Throws the hat violently aside and takes out fan. The Chorus now turns from a description of past events to a recital of the tortures which the Hunter is undergoing in Hell. The dance becomes quieter now, the Hunter using the fan to indicate the actions described. The fan is a large white one on which is painted a bird in flight.)
In the earthly world I thought it only an easy prey, this bird, only an easy prey. But now here in Hell it has become a gruesome phantom-bird, pursuing the sinner, honking from its beak of iron, beating its mighty wings, sharpening its claws of copper. It tears at my eyeballs, it rends my flesh. I would cry out, but choking amid the shrieking flames and smoke, can make no sound.
    (The Hunter runs wildly about the stage, in agony.)
Is it not for the sin of killing the voiceless birds that I myself now have no voice? Is it not for slaughtering the moulting, earth-bound birds that I cannot now flee?
    (The Hunter has started moving rapidly toward the Facing Pillar when suddenly he seems unable to move and sinks to his knees, cowering in the center of the stage.)
Hunter: The gentle bird has become a falcon, a hawk!
Chorus: And I!—I have become a pheasant, vainly seeking shelter, as though in a snowstorm on the hunting fields of Gatano, fleeing in vain over the earth, fearing also the sky, harassed by falcons above and tormented by dogs below.
    (The Hunter rises and, looking up toward the sky and down to the earth, moves slowly, defeatedly, toward the Shite’s Pillar.)
Ah! the killing of those birds! this heavy heart which never knows a moment’s peace! this body endlessly in pain!
    (The Hunter stops at the Shite’s Pillar and, turning, points a finger at the Monk.)
Please help me, O worthy monk. Please help me….
    (The Hunter drops his arms, and the Chorus chants the conventional ending of a Nō play.)
And thereupon the spirit fades and is gone….
    (The Hunter stamps his feet, indicating he has disappeared, that the play is done. He walks slowly down the Bridge and through the curtain, followed in turn by the other actors and the musicians. The Chorus exits by the Hurry Door, and again the stage is left bare.)
Translated by Meredith Weatherby and Bruce Rogers