Conte japonais

Cette semaine, j’ai oublié quel jour, M. Tsukamoto est venu à Yamaai Mura. Il a 72 ans, était professeur d’anglais à l’université, et a écrit 3 livres, et un est en cours. C’est d’ailleurs pour ça qu’il est venu. Dans le roman qu’il est en train d’écrire, il critique le ministère de l’agriculture du Japon. J’éspère que vous êtes au courant que le gouvernement japonais a connu un changement majeur récemment : l’alternance ! Le PLD ( Part liberal-democrate) était au pouvoir depuis une cinquantaine d’années, mais le PSD (parti social democratique) a gagné les dernières élections. Ainsi ce monsieur critiquait le PLD. Il est venu voir Keishin pour lui demander de lire une dizaine de pages où justement il critiquait la politique agricole japonaise en place jusque-là. Pendant que Keishin lisait, M. Tsukamoto m’a demandé à ce qu’on parle dehors pour pas gêner Keishin pendant sa lecture. Je me demandais de quoi on allait parler, mais c’était inutile, Tsukamoto a fait un monologue, avec beaucoup de répétitions ! Il parlait bien anglais, parfois avec un accent anglais, ça faisait très bizarre ! Souvent il répétait une phrase plusieurs fois en utilisant de mots différents, il devait avoir peur que je ne comprenne pas ! Il m’a dit que le PLD (le parti conservateur), quand il était au gouvernement, considérait les votes des paysans comme acquis, et donc ne se préoccupaient pas d’eux. Par ailleurs, même si je ne sais pas en quoi elles consistaient, il m’a dit que les politiques agricoles avaient toujours été à co

urt terme et jamais sur le long terme et étaient « narrow » (étroites, je ne sais pas trop si on peut dire ça d’une politique en français…). Et bien sûr, et apparemment le point de vue du nouveau gouvernement n’est pas différent, le PLD préférait les cultures de grandes surfaces au petites surfaces comme ici à Yamaai Mura.

Ça c’était le contenu, pour la forme… j’ai déjà dit qu’il se répétait, c’était marrant, mais un peu frustrant parce que j’attendais toujours qu’il passe à la phrase suivante ! Sinon, quand je parlais, il disait souvent « I see, I see », l’équivalent de « hai/oui » qu’on répète souvent en japonais dans une conversation pour faire savoir qu’on

comprend (ça veut pas forcément dire qu’on est d’accord avec ce que la personne dit). Aussi, il ne me regardait jamais dans les yeux quand il parlait, c’était…bizarre. On dit souvent que c’est le cas chez les asiatiques, de pas regarder dans les yeux, je l’ai jamais autant remarqué que ce jour là. Peut être le fait qu’il parlait en anglais mettait plus en valeur ce qui n’était pas « européen »…

Parmi ses livres, l’un est une traduction de contes de la région de Kumamoto. Il est en anglais et il en a offert un à Keishin, que j’ai lu. Ci-dessous, retranscription de mon favori. Désolée pour ceux qui ne parlent pas anglais, mais faire la traduction me prendrait beaucoup de temps…

« Tennyo (天女) : lady from heaven.

There is a spring of clear water at Tazuwara near Aso Shrine in Ichinomiya Town. The spring was originally a large fountain which gushed cool water in the far-off days when lord Takeiwatatsuno-mikoto (prince) was leading the development of Aso District.

Alive with wisteria (glycine) and camellia in full bloom, the riot of color reflected on the surface of the fountain, this area was just like heaven on earth. To the south there was a view of Aso Gogaku (the five peaks of Aso), with clouds of smoke rising up.

Among the leaders helping the lord to develop Aso was a man named Nihiikono-mikoto. He was a gallant youth who liked to chase hares and deer on horseback around the fields and mountains of Aso. Mikoto (the young prince) would often come to Tazuwara and luxuriate in the fountain water to wash and refresh himself after hunting or directing people’s work in the fields.

One day when Mikoto came down to the fountain for his usual cold bath, he saw behind the blossoms of wisteria and camellia a breath-taking sight: three young women bathing in the fountain.

Through the leaves, Mikoto cast a furtive glance at the bathers. He could not believe his own eyes at the unearthly beauty of the women, and no wonder. All of them had lustrous, fair skin, sparkling black limpid eyes, and beautiful cherry lips. Their fingers were white, graceful and delicate.

Illustration du livre.

They were heavenly nymphs who had alighted to take a cold bath here in the fountain of clear water to refresh themselves after their long journey through the heavens.

As is often the case with a vigorous young man like Mikoto, he thought of a practical joke. Stealing up to the celestial robes of feathers that the maidens had taken off, he deftly (?) took one up and concealed it. The maidens, who were relaxing so comfortably in the water, did not notice him at all.

When they came out of the water, fully satisfied with their bathing, one of them could not find her dress. They all looked hard in every nook and corner, but it was nowhere to be found. Finally the other two maidens decided they could not afford to wait for their friend indefinitely, so they started for heaven like so many cranes (grue), leaving her looking frantically (desesperement) for the dress.

The nymph who was left alone was too pitiable. The fair-skinned, graceful nude figure of the celestial maiden, tears in her eyes and looking up to heaven, was divinely beautiful.

Just then Mikoto appeared from where he had hidden himself behind a tree. To the maiden, who was astonished and embarrassed to see him, Mikoto said, “I have hidden your robe of feathers.” Looking at Mikoto with her clear but sorrowful eyes, the maiden said, “give it back to me, please.”

“No I don’t want to do that,” he said.

“Don’t tease me. Please return it to me. Without it I can’t go back to heaven.”

“Oh, that’s just what I want! You see, I have a favour to ask of you: I want you to become my wife,” he smiled.

“Of course, it’s impossible for me to do that. Being a heavenly maiden, I must go back to heaven where I belong.”

“Then why don’t you fly back just as you like?” said Mikoto teasingly and with mischievous eyes, for he knew she could not fly without her robe of feathers.

Her lovely sorrowful eyes glinted with tears.

“Would you please let me have my dress for pity’s sake?” But Mikoto was deaf to all her imploring. He only said “I won’t keep you from searching it by yourself.”

The maiden looked this way and that for the dress, but in vain. Smiling, Mikoto said again, “You won’t be able to go back to heaven without the dress you know. Without it and here on earth you are no better than a mere human. Would you please give up the idea of returning to heaven and be my wife?”

“I couldn’t do that. Anyway, please return the robe to me.”

“If I give it back to you, you will leave the earth, and then I would feel unbearably lonely. I couldn’t pass even a single day if it were not for you. Try to forget your home in heaven, please. Instead, won’t you live together with me, here in Aso?”

Mikoto zealous courting was really sincere. Although at first he had done this all for amusement, now the mere thought of life without her made him shudder.

Helpless before his stubbornness, she resigned herself to the inevitable. Finally, she made herself say “OK, then. I’ll let myself be forced into marrying you.”

So from that day she began her unwilling married life on earth. The marriage kept Mikoto in bliss, though he always suspected that she might take advantage of some chance or other to fly back to heaven. Mikoto seldom even engaged in his favourite pastime, hunting: instead he was deeply attached to his wife and wanted to be with her all the time.

At first it had seemed that the new bride was still looking for the dress, but now she seemed rather ready to work hard in the fields with her husband.

The years rolled by peacefully, and they were blessed with one child after another until they had eleven children. At home, the mother’s affection embraced all the children, and in the fields the perspiration (?) soaked her shirt from working with her husband. Soon there was born their twelfth bay, a girl so lovely she was apparently the apple’s of her mother’s eye.

One day toward evening Mikoto was taking a walk in the garden with the pretty baby in his arms. With the setting sun nearing the west edge of the caldera (cratere volcanique) wall, the mountains were dyed rosy pink, and in the southern sky the smoke trailing from mount Aso was glowing. Fully appreciating his peaceful life and singing various lullabies to amuse the babies, Mikoto unconsciously sang the following song : “the robe of feathers/ Which belongs to your mother/ Lies beneath the huge pile/ of a thousand straw sheaves (brains de paille).” Now that she had been his wife for many years and given birth to twelve children, Mikoto had grown incautious enough to think that she might no longer have the idea of going back to heaven.

But his wife’s sharp ear caught the song, and at once she hurried to the pile of straw sheaves she knew to be in a village called Teno. Furiously she dug at the bottom of the pile and found her longed-for robe.

The moment she put it on, she began to rise up into the sky. Mikoto, who had followed her, was utterly grieved to see her leaving the earth. He called and called to her, imploring her to come back to him. But in vain. “When you miss me, why don’t you call at mount Miyayama?” she said down to him. Then, she soared higher and higher, flying so beautifully like the heavenly maiden she was. Embracing the pretty baby in one arm, and extending her other arm toward the clouds far above, Mikoto stood helpless in blank amazement and muffled sorrow. »

Commentez.