Three Women Poets of Modern Japan/White Lotus
“White Lotus”
Probably the most talked-of woman in Japan today is Akiko Yanagiwara, who writes under the name of “White Lotus.” The daughter of Prince Yanagiwara, a former Chairman of the House of Peers, she was married at an early age to a wealthy coal baron named Ito, who subsequently became the richest man in Kyushu, a southern province of Japan. And it was in Kyushu that Ito built for his young and gifted wife the famous Copper Palace.
Akiko, however, after some years of married life, longed for intellectual and aesthetic companionship, and was led by this desire to make friends with a group of youthful writers and artists who were zealous advocates of individualism and emancipation from social convention. In the course of time “White Lotus” became involved in a love affair with one of the young men in the group, Miyazaki by name, and in the summer of 1921 she fled from home, deserting her husband.
Japan is still a conservative country, especially as regards its attitude toward the actions of royal or aristocratic persons. “White Lotus” set the whole nation talking. Newspapers and magazines were filled with discussions of her case, and the majority condemned her. Her father felt the disgrace so keenly that he resigned his high government position.
For a time after her flight “White Lotus” could not be found. Presently, however, she was discovered in hiding among friends in Tokyo, and her father took her in charge. She was lodged forthwith in a Buddhist convent, from which she soon escaped to join a religious sect of her own choosing, a modern branch of Shintoism. Later her restless spirit drove her away from this group as well.
Shortly after her desertion of Ito her case was complicated seriously by the birth of a child, and the consequent argument as to the identity of the child’s father. At all events she succeeded after a sensational fight in obtaining a divorce from her husband, and then proceeded to marry her lover Miyazaki.
“White Lotus” looks upon herself as the victim of stupid marriage and divorce laws, and taking her cue from Ibsen, frequently refers to herself as the “Nora of Japan.” Allying herself with the radicals, she hails with poetic ecstacy her own martyrdom in the fight for feminine freedom in a country which undoubtedly is ruled by and for men. Several volumes of her plays and poems have been published in Japan, and her writings have revealed not only a searching and dissatisfied feminine soul, but also an acute and original mind.
“White Lotus”
The flowers of my heart must surely bloom
As I lie dreaming.
Ah, what sadness fills the valley where love dwells!
Out of the hazy sky
Cherry-blossoms fall like rain.
But now how cold my arms are!
Now, two hearts beating quietly together.
Who will weep for my sake,
I will gladly die now—yes, now!
Her life is worth the living.
My used mirrors,
You have known my springtime, when I was eighteen,
And also my early autumn, in my twenties.
For whose sake do I smile?
For the sake of the name of Woman.
The moon is reflected in it,
Flowers fall upon it.
Though for ten years I have lived with him.
Whence came the seed?
Whose hand planted it?
If anyone will visit me
Let him come, if only in a dream.
Let it go where the waves go.
In the prison of beautiful love.
I grope my way
Where many of old have shed their tears.
Friend and stranger are alike,
As in my youthful love.
Cloud and water,
Life and death:
There is neither end nor beginning—
That is all I feel sure of.
That I should have to bring my cold body
Before the judgment seat
When I am dead?
To the fiery depths of hell
Or to the dullness of heaven?
I might forget these sorrows.
Was my heart satisfied.
Is a dream, then, to be everything in my life?
In my loneliness
I feel as the flowers do,
Falling in the wind.
I flame,
Thinking of you.
Shedding tears upon them,
New sorrows fill my heart.
I am lonely for you.
When you are here
I am lonely with you.
My heart is pursued by loneliness.
Do the blossoms follow the wind
Or the wind the blossoms?
Possessing nothing,
Still am I burdened with myself.
A white road forms behind it.
It is the path of my grief.
I sit before my mirror,
Holding a lantern.
For that reason I am laughed at
As being ignorant.
“Ride forth bravely into the wilderness!”
Who whips the steeds of my desire?
So would it be in autumn.
But now the storm is here!
That were the bed of butterflies?
I wish to burn poisoned incense
And sleep quietly.