"I stand by the grave where they buried
The Maiden of Unai,
Whom of old the rival champions
Did woo so jealously.
"The grave should hand down through the ages
Her story for evermore,
That men yet unborn might love her,
And think on the days of yore.
"And so beside the causeway
They piled up the boulders high;
Nor e'er, till the clouds that o'ershadow us
Shall vanish from the sky,
"May the pilgrim along the causeway
Forget to turn aside,
And mourn o'er the grave of the Maiden;
And the village folk, beside,
"Ne'er cease from their bitter weeping,
But cluster around her tomb;
And the ages repeat her story,
And bewail the Maiden's doom.
"Till at last e'en I stand gazing
On the grave where she lies low,
And muse with unspeakable sadness
On the old days long ago."
Sakimaro. (Trans. by B. H. Chamberlain.)
The Maiden of Katsushika
"Where in the far-off eastern land
The cock first crows at dawn,
The people still hand down a tale
Of days long dead and gone.
"They tell of Katsushika's maid,
Whose sash of country blue
Bound but a frock of home-spun hemp,
And kirtle coarse to view;
"Whose feet no shoe had e'er confined,
Nor comb passed through her hair;
Yet all the queens in damask robes
Might nevermore compare
"With this dear child, who smiling stood,
A flow'ret of the spring—
In beauty perfect and complete,
Like to the full moon's ring.
"And, as the summer moths that fly
Towards the flame so bright,
Or as the boats that seek the port
When fall the shades of night,
"So came the suitors; but she said:
'Why take me for your wife?
Full well I know my humble lot,
I know how short my life.'
"So where the dashing billows beat
On the loud-sounding shore,
Hath Katsushika's tender maid
Her home for evermore.
"Yes! 'tis a tale of days long past;
But, list'ning to the lay,
It seems as I had gazed upon
Her face but yesterday."
Trans. by B. H. Chamberlain.
To the translation of this Japanese ballad Professor B. H. Chamberlain adds the following note: "To the slight, but undoubtedly very ancient, tradition preserved in the foregoing ballad, there is nothing to add from any authentic source. Popular fancy, however, has been busy filling up the gaps, and introduces a cruel stepmother, who, untouched by the piety of the maiden in drawing water for her every day from the only well whose water she cares to drink, is so angry with her for, by her radiant beauty, attracting suitors to the house, that the poor girl ends by drowning herself, upon which the neighbours declare her to be a goddess, and erect a temple in her honour. Both the temple and the well are still among the show-places in the environs of Tōkyō."
The Maiden with the Wooden Bowl
In ancient days there lived an old couple with their only child, a girl of remarkable charm and beauty. When the old man fell sick and died his widow became more and more concerned for her daughter's future welfare.
One day she called her child to her, and said: "Little one, your father lies in yonder cemetery, and I, being old and feeble, must needs follow him soon. The thought of leaving you alone in the world troubles me much, for you are beautiful, and beauty is a temptation and a snare to men. Not all the purity of a white flower can prevent it from being plucked and dragged down in the mire. My child, your face is all too fair. It must be hidden from the eager eyes of men, lest it cause you to fall from your good and simple life to one of shame."
Having said these words, she placed a lacquered bowl upon the maiden's head, so that it veiled her attractions. "Always wear it, little one," said the mother, "for it will protect you when I am gone."
Shortly after this loving deed had been performed the old woman died, and the maiden was forced to earn her living by working in the rice-fields. It was hard, weary work, but the girl kept a brave heart and toiled from dawn to sunset without a murmur. Over and over again her strange appearance created considerable comment, and she was known throughout the country as the "Maiden with the Bowl on her Head." Young men laughed at her and tried to peep under the vessel, and not a few endeavoured to pull off the wooden covering; but it could not be removed, and laughing and jesting, the young men had to be content with a glimpse of the lower part of the fair maiden's face. The poor girl bore this rude treatment with a patient but heavy heart, believing that out of her mother's love and wisdom would come some day a joy that would more than compensate for all her sorrow.