She’s shameful to look at.
TOKIMARU: No, I’m the shameful one. Horses and carts moved off to
the side when they passed me, with my hair cut short, dressed in red
hitatare—and I thought it was because the way I carried myself gave me an
air of authority. I walked proudly about town, burst into ordinary people’s
houses, captured people. To undo that sin...
OLD WOMAN: Murasaki, Murasaki.
She calls Murasaki into the house. Murasaki goes in sadly, reluctant to
part with Tokimaru.
TOKIMARU: Murasaki… I’ll be a priest after tomorrow—your face will
be my image of the Bodhisattva. I’ll worship it day and night.
Tokimaru begins to head back in the direction from which he came, but
Murasaki comes out of the house and goes after him.
In this ephemeral world just once I was able to meet a person dear to
me...
Tokimaru walks off into the bamboo forest. Murasaki follows after him
for a while, then returns with the flute tucked into her obi.
OLD WOMAN: Murasaki, Murasaki.
Murasaki returns to the house.
Kosasa removes the screen. She lights the lamps.
Kuretake is lying in her bedding, sick.
I yearn to see you my love I yearn to see you I’d be thrilled if we could
meet.
KUARATAKE: Murasaki! We must be grateful—the light of the Buddha
came streaming in. For me, a dancer, the light of the Buddha is the light of
art... As long as I keep my eyes focused on that single ray, I have no
troubles—I’m not sick.
