Once upon a time, there was an exceedingly poor man living in the capital of Kyoto. He was of no distinguished rank.
He had no influential acquaintances to rely upon, no parents or relatives, and not even a house of his own. He survived by hiring himself out as a servant wherever he could. Yet he was never valued by those he served. Thinking, “Perhaps there is a better place for me,” he searched from one household to another, but everywhere was the same. In the end, he could find no one willing to employ him.
His wife was young, beautiful, and gentle by nature, and she faithfully remained at the side of her impoverished husband. Deeply troubled, the husband said to her,
“I had hoped that we would remain together for as long as we lived in this world. But my poverty only grows worse with each passing day. Perhaps it is our being together that brings such misfortune upon us. I think we should part. What do you say?”
She replied,
“I have never thought such a thing. The unhappiness we now suffer is nothing more than the result of karma from our previous lives. I was prepared to remain with you, even if it meant starving to death together. Yet it is true that our poverty grows more severe day by day. Perhaps it really is ill fortune for us to stay together. Perhaps we should try living apart.”
Promising that they would one day meet again, the two parted in tears.
Afterward, because the wife was still young and exceptionally beautiful, she entered the service of a certain nobleman. Gentle and kind-hearted by nature, she soon won her master’s affection. Before long, his wife passed away. The master grew even closer to her, entrusting her with the management of his household and the care of his daily affairs. After sharing his bed with her, he found her all the more dear, and eventually treated her as though she were his lawful wife, leaving every household matter in her hands.
In time, the master was appointed Governor of Settsu Province. The woman came to enjoy wealth and spent many happy years there.
Meanwhile, her former husband had hoped that separating from his wife might improve his fortunes, but instead his life went from bad to worse. At last he could no longer remain in Kyoto and drifted to Settsu Province. There he found work as a farm laborer, but he was unsuited to the rough tasks expected of common workers—plowing fields, clearing land, chopping wood, and the like. Eventually his employer sent him to Naniwa Bay, near the mouth of the Yodo River, to cut reeds.
At that very time, the Governor of Settsu had stopped his carriage near Naniwa with his wife. Surrounded by his retainers and attendants, he was enjoying a banquet with wine and merriment. The governor’s lady remained inside her carriage with her women attendants, delighting in the splendid scenery of Naniwa Bay. Along the shore, many laborers were busy cutting reeds.
Among them was one man who, though dressed as a mere laborer, possessed an unmistakable air of refinement. When the governor’s lady noticed him, she thought,
“Somehow, he resembles my former husband.”
Wondering if her eyes deceived her, she looked again more carefully.
It was indeed her former husband.
Seeing him cutting reeds in such a wretched state, the governor’s lady could not hold back her tears.
“How pitiful he has become. What karma from a former life could have brought him to such a fate?”
Composing herself, she casually called one of her attendants and said,
“Bring me the man among the reed cutters.”
The attendant hurried over and told the man,
“The lady in the governor’s carriage has summoned you.”
The man was so astonished by this unexpected command that he simply stood there in a daze. The attendant shouted impatiently,
“Come at once!”
Frightened, the man abandoned his work, tucked his sickle into his belt, and came before the carriage.
Looking at him closely, she saw that he was indeed her former husband. His body was blackened with mud. He wore a sleeveless hemp garment that reached only to his knees. A battered eboshi sat upon his head, while dirt covered his face, hands, and feet, making him appear utterly filthy. Leeches clung to his knees, and blood trickled down his legs.
Filled with pity, she ordered food and wine to be brought to him. Watching her former husband greedily devour the food beside the carriage was a heartbreaking and humiliating sight.
To the women attending her in the carriage, she remarked,
“Among those laborers cutting reeds, that man seemed to possess an air of refinement, so I felt sorry for him.”
She then took a robe from inside the carriage.
“Give this to that man.”
Together with the robe, she enclosed a note on which she had written a poem.
（Poem）
We parted believing
our fortunes could scarcely grow worse—
why, then, do you now cut ashi
and dwell upon the shore of Naniwa?
（In the original Japanese, ashi is a pun meaning both “reed” and “bad fortune”.）
The man gratefully accepted the robe. Surprised by such unexpected kindness, he examined it more closely and discovered a sheet of paper tucked inside. When he unfolded it and read the poem, he realized,
“Ah… this is my former wife.”
He thought to himself,
“How sorrowful and shameful is the destiny allotted to me.”
Then he asked,
“Please lend me an inkstone.”
With it he wrote the following reply.
(Poem)
Since parting from you,
I have come to know how grievously I was mistaken.
Now, in Naniwa, where I cut ashi,
this place has become all the harder to endure.
(Here again, ashi carries the double meaning of “reed” and “misfortune.”)
When the governor’s lady read his poem, her pity and sorrow grew even deeper.
After this, the man abandoned his work of cutting reeds and fled, hiding himself away. It is said that the governor’s lady never revealed this incident to anyone.
People lament their lot in life because they cannot know the karmic consequences of their former lives. It is said that this story was handed down from the governor’s lady herself after she had grown old.
[Translation]
Yuri Aoi / Siro Inuzuka
This text was created by using chatGPT and Gemini to translate a modern Japanese translation into English, and then making some modifications. There may be errors in the English expressions. Please correct any mistakes.
[Cooperation]
Shinichi Kusano
●Japanese
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