CHORUS These were the deeds of old, but oh, to tell them! To be telling them over now in his wretched condition. His life in the world is weary, he is near the end of his course. 'Go back,' he would say to his daughter. 'Pray for me when I am gone from the world, for I shall then count upon you as we count on a lamp in the darkness ... we who are blind.' 'I will stay,' she said. Then she obeyed him, and only one voice is left.
We tell this for the remembrance. Thus were the parent and child.
END
NOTES
Ernest Fenollosa has left this memorandum on the stoicism of the last play: I asked Mr. Hirata how it could be considered natural or dutiful for the daughter to leave her father in such a condition. He said, 'that the Japanese would not be in sympathy with such sternness now, but that it was the old Bushido spirit. The personality of the old man is worn out, no more good in this life. It would be sentimentality for her to remain with him. No good could be done. He could well restrain his love for her, better that she should pray for him and go on with the work of her normal life.'
Of the plays in this book, 'Nishikigi' has appeared in 'Poetry,' 'Hagoromo' in 'The Quarterly Review,' and 'Kumasaka,' in 'The Drama;' to the editors of which periodicals I wish to express my acknowledgment.
Ezra Pound.