SAI-NO-KAWARA, the Dry Bed of the River of Souls. Far below the roots of the mountains, far below the bottom of the sea is the course of this river. Ages ago its current bore the souls of the blessed dead to the Land of Eternal Peace. The wicked oni were angry when they saw the good spirits pass out of their reach on the breast of the river. They muttered curses in their throats as the stream flowed on day by day, year by year. The snow-white soul of a tender child came to the bank. A cup-shaped lotus bloom waited to carry the little one swiftly, through the dark cavernous region, to the kingdom of joy. The oni gnashed their teeth. The spirit of a kindly old man, whose heart was young, would thread his way unharmed, through the horde of demons, and float on the Heavenly-Bird-Boat to the unknown world. The oni looked on in wrath.
But the oni stemmed the River of Souls at its source, and now the spirits of the dead must wend their way, unaided, to the country that lies far beyond.
Jizo, The Never-Slumbering, is the god who guards the souls of little children. He is full of pity, his voice is gentle as the voice of the doves on Mount Hasa, his love is infinite as the waters of the sea. To him every child in the Land of the Gods calls for succour and protection.
In Sai-no-Kawara, The Dry Bed of the River of Souls, are the spirits of countless children. Babes of two and three years old, babes of four and five, children of eight and ten. Their wailing is pitiful to hear. They cry for the mother who bore them. They cry for the father who cherished them. They cry for the brother and sister whom they love. Their cry is heard throughout Sai-no-Kawara, a cry that rises and falls, and falls and rises, rhythmic, unceasing. These are the words that they cry—
“Chichi koishi! haha koishi!——”
Their voices grow hoarse as they cry, and still they cry on—
“Chichi koishi! haha koishi!——”