Singing Satsumabiwa became an adventure in the completest sense of the word.
The first song Fumon began to teach me was Horaisan. It was, and still is, sung to celebrate the New Year, but also to wish the Emperor long life and a peaceful reign, as is the custom in many Japanese traditional arts gatherings at the beginning of the year.
From pitch to the next dilemma
My journey with Satsumabiwa began with studying just the instrumental interludes, that was until Fumon suddenly presented a song at one of my lessons in April 1995.
Since my childhood I had great difficulty with singing and was very reluctant to try.
However, as I practiced this song with Fumon, I found it easier to control my voice. My singing voice had settled by my early twenties and pitching notes was not the same problem as before.
My new difficulty became pronouncing Japanese words correctly. While I might get away with mispronouncing the consonants to some degree, vowels were a different matter altogether, principally because the vowels are most prominent in singing generally.
In Ireland, there are an array of vowel sounds to be heard from one end of the country to the other. This is probably a result of the different dialects of Gaelic Irish found throughout the country influencing the present-day spoken Hiberno-English.
People from the middle of the country, where I hail from, tend to speak with their mouths barely open, which to others sounds as though mumbling. As a result, the vowel sounds become dark and covered. I had this habit and it took quite some time to get out of it.
In Japanese, on the other hand, there are five vowel sounds, which sound clear and unclouded.
Diphthong disaster
Furthermore, diphthongs are not found in Japanese. Yet, they flourish in speech in Ireland. A perusal of Irish placenames would make this clear. The name of my hometown is written Portlaoise. It is a mystery how to pronounce this for anyone not familiar with the Irish language. It is, in fact, pronounced somewhat like port-leash, however with a diphthong.
Because of these factors, I rarely finished on the same vowel sound I started with when singing.
Fumon was patient with me, and rarely criticised my pronunciation. He just sang the phrase over and over, with my repeatedly singing back until it somewhat improved or approximated a correct rendition. He would just say "Sore de ii desu yo...." or "That will do...." and on to the next phrase.
Taking Japanese lessons helped to improve this situation and after a few months, I began to be able to keep my vowel sounds steady.
Nevertheless, I still tended to darken the vowel sounds, making the words indistinct. It was not until ten years later that I finally began to make progress with this in any meaningful way thanks to lessons in Utai, or the sung part of Noh.
The question of meaning....
As for the meaning of the text of Horaisan, I had absolutely no understanding of it. My ability to read kanji, or Chinese Characters used in Japanese, was very limited. I could make out the character for mountain 山 in the title and the odd character here and there. Even if I recognised a character, the context it was used in could give it an entirely different meaning from what it meant in isolation.
Showing the song text to my work colleagues, they found it very difficult to explain to me. Even if they knew how to read it, the meaning remained illusive.
It was some time before I began to break into the text a little. With the aid of my Japanese teacher and some old tomes explaining the texts, particularly 薩摩琵琶歌釈定, dating from 1910, I made a little progress.
At the time I was unaware of a publication by Masami Nakamura who made a translation of a number of Satsumabiwa Songs including Horaisan. I was to meet him a number of years later.
Below is a liberal translation of the song, adapted to preserve the syllable count with explanatory notes in italics.
Horaisan
Horaisan, or Mount Penglai in Chinese, is the name of one of three sacred mountains where immortal beings reside in Chinese mythology. The elixir of life was thought to be found there. In the 2nd Century B.C. the ruler of Qin sent Xu Fu, or Jo Fuku 徐福 in Japanese, to search for this. He travelled into the Eastern Seas never to return. In later times, it is written in Japanese and Chinese literature that he arrived in Japan and that Mount Penglai, or Horaisan was actually Mount Fuji.
This piece, performed at the New Year, is filled with allusions to verses and images with celebratory connotations. Unlike other Biwa songs of this celebratory tone, this song is addressed from elites to fellow elites encouraging good leadership and governance, rather than from people to their Lord or leaders.
It is wonderful.
You are standing amidst the eternally grace-filled
gently enfolding warm light of this day in Spring.
Stepping forth through the Gate of Never Growing Old
Looking in all directions, you take in the scene.
The Gate of Never Growing Old - Furomon 不老門
A gate in the Imperial Palace of the Tang Chinese city Dongdu, present-day Luoyang. Regarded as the gate where time came to a halt and one didn't grow old, it was used for celebratory occasions. In Japanese, it is found mentioned in the 和漢朗詠集, Collection of Japanese and Chinese Poems for Singing, No.775: 長生殿裏春秋富 不老門前日月遅 written by the Japanese Confucianist poet Yoshishige Yasutane, meaning "Within the Palace of Eternal Life, under the Gate of Never Growing Old, time moves so slowly, (may your future reign be glorious)."
The cranes' young nest in small pines high up in the peaks
The turtles play in the streams down in valley deep
Cranes and turtles are creatures associated with long life. Cranes were thought to live a thousand years and turtles, ten thousand.
Eight thousand, thousand ages, once a pebble, then a stone,
now massive, this moss overgrown rock boulder has become, and thus
may your reign live on.
A quote from a waka 31-syllable poem found in the 10th Century compilation 古今和歌集, "Collection of Japanese Poems of Ancient and Modern Times". 我が君は 千代にやちよに さざれ石の 巌となりて 苔のむすまで The Japanese National Anthem is based on the words found in this Satsumabiwa song.
In this land, no riverbank ever burst with rain
Nor wind was known to ever fell a tree's branch.
As the ancient reigns of China’s sages old,
Following their example governance pure.
The sages here are Emperors Yao and Shun, whose reigns were characterised by benevolence and dedication to good governance
Fields green – full of life, fruit laden boughs.
Granaries plenty.
Stretching skywards golden towers: one roof after another.
In each home, hot all day, the kitchen stove and hearth.
In truth and honesty one’s word fulfilled.
Some have argued that this is a reference to a poem written by the Japanese Emperor Nintoku, who after giving the nation relief from all taxes for three years wrote: 高き屋に 登りて見れば 煙立つ 民のかまどは 賑ひにけり (Climbing to a high roof, I look... smoke rises from stoves, people have their fill.)
Surely Horaisan is as this scene you behold.
That your reign may be
as a thousand year old pine flushed and dressed in green,
never-changing, the model serving to show for
as long as heaven and earth be,
a land governed and ruled, in benevolence.
The arrowheads hidden away.
The sword safely placed in its sheath.
This appears to be a quote from the Noh play Yumiyawata 昔し唐周の代を。治めし国のためしには。弓箭を包みを納めし例を以て。弓を袋に入れ。剣を箱に納むるこそ。泰平の御代のしるしなれ。(Long ago in Tang China, as the model of how a land can be governed, the arrows were gathered and put away, the bows put into their bags, swords placed in the box, the example of a time of total peace.)
The drum of protest covered deep in moss;
the birds nearby never
startled by the sound of it beating in this land.
In ancient China, the Legendary Emperor Yu the Great, had a drum placed so that any person could bring a complaint to his attention by beating on it. Through the wisdom of his rule, the moss grew deep on it and the birds gathered nearby without fear of its sound. Mentioned in the 和漢朗詠集, Collection of Japanese and Chinese Poems for Singing No. 663
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