“River of Death”, from “Song of the Nightingale”

 

“Song of the Nightingale” is a tale in 12 episodes about a marriage in 17th century Japan. Lord Nyo and Lady Nyo, he a samurai and she from the powerful clan Fujiwara, have been married since she was fifteen. Now she is thirty and Lord Nyo sixty. Magic, a tricky Tengu and a baby plucked from the surface of the moon figure in the story.

The poetry of Saigyo is noted: where it isn’t his,  it’s mine.
Episode 11 is a scene from a battlefield, as Lord Nyo is a general in the provincial army of Lord Mori, an aging and despot daimyo in north west Japan, near Moon (Gassan) Mountain.

Lady Nyo…but not the one in the story.

–

THE RIVER OF DEATH, episode 11

There’s no gap or break in the ranks of those marching under the hill:
an endless line of dying men, coming on and on and on….
—Saigyo

–
When the news of Lady Nyo
Birthing a son
Reached Lord Nyo
He was far from home,
To the east,
Over mountains
In dangerous, alien territory.
–
A general in the service
Of his lord,
The gore of battle,
The issue of ‘dying with honor’
Began at first light,
The air soon filled with sounds of battle-
Dying horses, dying men
Drawing their last gasps of life,
Churned into the mud of immeasurable violence.

–

The river of death is swollen with bodies fallen into it;
in the end the bridge of horses cannot help.
—Saigyo

–
Death, not new life
Was before his eyes at dawn,
And death, not life
Pillowed his head at night.
–

A battle rages around me,
But inside this old warrior
A battle rages inside my heart.
It is heavy with sorrow,
So tired beyond my old bones.

 

What good have we done
In watering the soil
With blood and offal
of sons?
–Lady Nyo
–

He stunk with the blood of battle
As his bow and swords cut a swath
Through men in service to another
And when the battle horns went silent,
With tattered banners like defeated clouds
Hanging limp over the field,
Acrid smoke stained everything
And the piteous cries of the dying
Echoed in his ears.
He wondered if his life would end here.

But the gods that he didn’t believe in
Were merciful.
His thoughts turned from fierce, ugly warriors
Towards home and a baby.

Still, he could not leave.
He was caught by status,
The prestige of his clan.
He could not desert the
Fate set out from birth.

Ah! This was fate of a man in servitude
To his Lord Daimyo.
This was the fate
Of a man chained to Honor.

Still, in the darkest hours of the night
The soft and perfumed shape of his wife
Floated down to him from the fleeting clouds,
Came to him through the smoke of battlefield fires,
And he turned on his pallet
To embrace this haunting comfort.
–

Off in the distance
There I see my loved one’s home
On the horizon.
How I long to be there soon
Get along black steed of mine!

—from the Man’yoshu
–

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2015-18

“Song of the Nightingale” was published on Amazon.com in 2015

 

Haibun, “River of Death”

Image from “Love Songs from the Man’yoshu”

 

This will be my haibun for dversepoets pub.  I’ve had enough horror this weekend and wanted to dial back on that.  So, I am posting this new haibun  I fashioned out of an episode of “Song of the Nightingale”, published by Createspace, 2015.  It’s a bit ghostly.

–

 

The river of death is swollen with bodies fallen into it;

in the end  the bridge of horses cannot help.

—Saigyo

(it was a medieval military tactic to stand horses together to make a bridge for soldiers to cross the river.)

 

“River of Death”

 

When the news of my birthing a son reached my husband, he was far from home, to the east, over mountains in dangerous, alien territory. A general in the service of his lord, the gore of battle, and the issue of ‘dying with honor’ began at first light. The air soon filled with the sounds of battle- dying horses and men, drawing their last gasps of life, churned into the mud of immeasurable violence. Death, not new life was before his eyes at dawn. And death, not life, pillowed his head at night. He stunk with the blood of battle as his bow and swords cut a swath through men in service to another and when the battle horns went silent, with tattered banners like defeated clouds hanging limp over the field, acrid smoke stained everything and the piteous cries of the dying echoed in his ears. He wondered if his life would end here. But the gods he didn’t believe in were merciful. His thoughts turned from fierce, ugly warriors towards home and a baby. Still he could not leave. He was caught by status, the prestige of his clan. He could not desert the fate set out from birth. Ah! This was the fate of a man chained to Honor.

Still, in the darkest hours of the night, he said the soft, perfumed shape of me floated down from the fleeting clouds, and I came to him through the smoke of battlefield fires, and he turned on his pallet to embrace this haunting comfort.

–

Shaped like a crossbow

Moon floods the battle below

Too late for the dead.

—

Dark is the hour

when hope is vanquished

the nightingale sings

 

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

Please don’t read my work from the site: JP at Olive Grove.  Jingle Nozelar Yan owns the site and is a common thief and liar.    She said  she doesn’t have to ask permission to revise or post your work.  She said she depends upon this. She preys on real poets because she isn’t one.  She refuses to follow the US Copyright laws of the US.  This behavior is insulting to the entire poetry community.  Jingle Bells Yan is no poet.  If you love poetry, avoid her like the plague she is.

“River of Death” from “Song of the Nightingale”

“Song of the Nightingale” is a story in 12 episodes about a marriage in 17th century Japan.  Lord Nyo and Lady Nyo, he a samurai and she from the powerful clan Fujiwara, have been married since she was fifteen.  Now she is thirty and Lord Nyo sixty. Magic, a tricky Tengu and a baby plucked from the surface of the moon figure in the story.

The poetry of Saigyo is noted:  where it isn’t, it is mine.

Episode 11 is a scene from a battlefield, as Lord Nyo is a general in the provincial army of Lord Mori, an aging and despot daimyo in north west Japan, near Moon Mountain.

“Song of the Nightingale”  will be published around July, 2015, a work of 4 years.

Lady Nyo…but not the one in the story.

–

11

THE RIVER OF DEATH

 

There’s no gap or break in the ranks of those marching under the hill:

an endless line of dying men, coming on and on and on….

—Saigyo

–

When the news of Lady Nyo

Birthing a son

Reached Lord Nyo

He was far from home,

To the east,

Over mountains

In dangerous, alien territory.

–

A general in the service

Of his lord,

The gore of battle,

The issue of ‘dying with honor’

Began at first light,

The air soon filled with sounds of battle-

Dying horses, dying men

Drawing their last gasps of life,

Churned into the mud of immeasurable violence.

–

The river of death is swollen with bodies fallen into it;

in the end  the bridge of horses cannot help.

—Saigyo

–

Death, not new life

Was before his eyes at dawn,

And death, not life

Pillowed his head at night.

–

A battle rages around me,

But inside this old warrior

A battle rages inside my heart.

It is heavy with sorrow,

So tired beyond my old bones.

–

 What good have we done

In watering the soil

With blood and offal

of sons?

–

 

He stunk with the blood of battle

As his bow and swords cut a swath

Through men in service to another

And when the battle horns went silent,

With tattered banners like defeated clouds

Hanging limp over the field,

Acrid smoke stained everything

And the piteous cries of the dying

Echoed in his ears.

He wondered if his life would end here.

–

But the gods that he didn’t believe in

Were merciful.

His thoughts turned from fierce, ugly warriors

Towards home and a baby.

–

Still, he could not leave.

He was caught by status,

The prestige of his clan.

He could not desert the

Fate set out from birth. –

Ah! This was fate of a man in servitude

To his Lord Daimyo.

This was the fate

Of a man chained to Honor.

–

Still, in the darkest hours of the night

The soft and perfumed shape of his wife

Floated down to him from the fleeting clouds,

Came to him through the smoke of battlefield fires,

And he turned on his pallet

To embrace this haunting comfort.

–

Off in the distance

There I see my loved one’s home

On the horizon.

How I long to be there soon

Get along black steed of mine!

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2015