Yetgeul › Hōjōki (An Account of My Hut) › Complete in one volume

Preface — The Flowing River序

Hōjōki (An Account of My Hut) 方丈記 · Kamo no Chōmei · 1212 (Japan, 2nd year of the Kenryaku era) · 1 passages · 439 Chinese characters · reading time 1.1 min

Hōjōki (An Account of My Hut) Complete in one volume "The flow of the river never ceases, and yet the water is not the water that was" — written eight hundred years ago by a man who lived through a great fire, a whirlwind, the moving of the capital, a famine and a great earthquake in Kyoto, one after another, and who then withdrew into a demountable hut one jō square. The record of the disasters becomes, just as it stands, a record of impermanence, and at the end he asks himself whether even the heart that loves that quiet is not a fault. Worth setting beside the Daodejing and the Dhammapada.

1The flowing river, and dwellings like foam

行く川のながれは絕えずして、しかも本の水にあらず。よどみに浮ぶうたかたは、かつ消えかつ結びて久しくとゞまることなし。世の中にある人とすみかと、またかくの如し。玉しきの都の中にむねをならべいらかをあらそへる、たかきいやしき人のすまひは、代々を經て盡きせぬものなれど、これをまことかと尋ぬれば、昔ありし家はまれなり。或はこぞ破れてことしは造り、あるは大家ほろびて小家となる。住む人もこれにおなじ。所もかはらず、人も多かれど、いにしへ見し人は、二三十人が中に、わづかにひとりふたりなり。あしたに死し、ゆふべに生るゝならひ、たゞ水の泡にぞ似たりける。知らず、生れ死ぬる人、いづかたより來りて、いづかたへか去る。又知らず、かりのやどり、誰が爲に心を惱まし、何によりてか目をよろこばしむる。そのあるじとすみかと、無常をあらそひ去るさま、いはゞ朝顏の露にことならず。或は露おちて花のこれり。のこるといへども朝日に枯れぬ。或は花はしぼみて、露なほ消えず。消えずといへども、ゆふべを待つことなし。

The flow of the river never ceases, and yet the water is not the water that was. The foam that floats on its still pools now vanishes, now forms again, and never stays long. So it is also with the people of this world and with the houses they live in.

Within the jewelled capital, ridgepoles set side by side and tiles vying with tiles, the dwellings of the high and the low seem to pass down the generations and never come to an end. But ask whether this is true, and houses that stood in the old days are rare. One was torn down last year and built again this year. Another was a great house that fell and became a small one. The people who live in them are the same. The place has not changed and the people are many, but of those I saw long ago, in twenty or thirty there are barely one or two.

Dying in the morning and being born at evening, this rule of ours is like nothing so much as the foam on the water. I do not know. The people who are born and die, where do they come from and where do they go? Nor do I know. For whose sake do they trouble their hearts over this lodging of a moment, and for what do they make it a delight to the eye?

The master and the dwelling, racing each other into impermanence as they pass away, are no different from the morning glory and its dew. Sometimes the dew falls and the flower remains. It remains, but it withers in the morning sun. Sometimes the flower fades and the dew has not yet vanished. It has not vanished, but it does not wait for the evening.

Interlinear notes 1

やけイ

In another copy "破れ", torn down, reads "やけ", burned.