SECOND DANCER: I’ve never been able to see him. THIRD
DANCER: The only thing I see even in my dreams is his face...
They laugh.
FOURTH DANCER: And yet, they say there is a path to buddhahood ...
FIFTH DANCER: Even in the playful games of children.
KURETAKE: The lighthearted games of young children are precious
indeed. I myself am spattered with the dark grime of this world—and yet
when I awake in the middle of the night, dreaming in the dark, suddenly the
motions of a dance, the melody of a song drifts up in my mind. And this—
this is the same as being lit dimly by Buddha’s light...
FIRST DANCER: But Kuretake, you’re famous as a dancer—known in
the Capital—people say you’re superior even to Gojo-no-Otsumae...
SECOND DANCER: Surely a golden Bodhisattva appears in your
dreams, and the two of you sing together, and dance.
KURETAKE: Don’t be foolish... Otsumae was one of the greatest
dancers of all time. She was summoned to the Imperial Palace after she
turned seventy—she passed away in the spring of her eighty-fourth year,
contented, listening to a poem intoned by the Emperor, who had come to
visit her on her deathbed—how could you compare someone like me to
her?
FOURTH DANCER: My goodness! (Surprised.) I wonder if we’ll still
be singing at eighty-four.
SECOND DANCER: Hotokegozen, though dearly loved by Lord
Kiyomori, visited Gio in Sagano and became a nun at sixteen...
THIRD DANCER: Gio’s place in Lord Kiyomori’s heart had been stolen
by Hotokegozen, so at twenty she became a nun ...
FIRST DANCER: At nineteen her younger sister,
