I begin to be able to hear the sound of Kagekiyo’s biwa, strains that rise
from those four strings.
Kuretake rises and takes up the biwa. It reminds her of the past. She
embraces it.
You drift on the waves of the western sea afloat in a boat when a wind
blows...
KUARATAKE: I don’t know where Kagekiyo has gone.
After he had gone the rustle of leaves in the clump of bamboo a lonely
orphans ties should be with a distant father.
They all cry, heads sunk on their chests.
Kuretake sits up straight.
KUARATAKE: When your mother is gone you must search for the
sound of your father’s music. MURASAKI: Yes, mother.
KUARATAKE: You must dance this dance, as I teach you.
Kuretake takes her fan and stands up straight. She tries with all her heart
to remain standing, though her legs are unsteady.
OLD WOMAN: Go on, Murasaki ... do your best to remember the dance
your mother is about to show you—go on, Murasaki.
Murasaki takes her fan and stands ready, concentrating intensely.
Oh how precious the preciousness of this day this life the life of a drop
of dew yet still I chance to meet the joy of this day the sadness of this day.
Murasaki collapses. The old woman runs to her and lifts her up.
KURETAKE: I’ll be watching you from the Pure Land when you dance
to the music of your father’s biwa, Murasaki.
Murasaki is possessed by her mother's spirit. She dances more and more
beautifully, more and more desperately.
