Prevod

When the Mikawa Lay Monk was still a man of the world, he left his first wife, having fallen in love with a young and beautiful woman, and took his new bride down to Mikawa. Before long she fell ill, and after a long sickness, her beauty faded and she died. Overcome with grief, he could not bring himself to do anything with her body, but lay beside her night and day, speaking to her and kissing her lips. Then a dreadful stench began to issue from her mouth, and revulsion stirred in him. Weeping, he at last laid her to rest. From that time on, he came to feel that the world was indeed a place of sorrow. At a festival held in Mikawa Province to appease the winds, he saw a boar being butchered alive as a sacrifice, and the wish to leave the province took hold of him. Someone brought him a pheasant that had been caught alive, and he said, “Come, let us dress this pheasant while it is still alive and eat it. I shall see whether it tastes any better that way.” One of his retainers, a thoughtless fellow intent on pleasing him, eagerly encouraged him: “It will be splendid, surely! How could it fail to taste better?” Those with a little understanding thought it a dreadful thing to say. He had the bird plucked alive before him. Again and again it struggled and fluttered, but they held it down and went on tearing out its feathers. Bloody tears trickled from its eyes, and it blinked and looked from one person to another. Some could not bear the sight and got up and left. Others laughed in amusement, saying, “Listen to it cry!” and plucked it all the more mercilessly. When all its feathers were gone, he had them cut it up. Blood welled out wherever the knife passed, and they wiped it away as they cut. The bird gave a dreadful cry of unbearable suffering and died. When they had finished dressing it, they roasted the pieces in a pan, and he told the others to taste them. “It is remarkably good,” they said. “This is far better than a bird dressed and roasted after it is dead.” He watched and listened intently, then burst into tears and cried aloud. Those who had praised the meat were utterly disconcerted. That very day he left the provincial capital, went up to the capital, and became a monk. The desire to follow the Buddhist path had already awakened in him, and he had put this extraordinary thing to the test in order to strengthen his resolve. Later, while begging for alms, he came to a house where they offered him an exceedingly fine meal, spreading a mat in the courtyard for him to sit on. Just as he was about to sit down and eat, a bamboo blind was rolled up, and he saw a richly dressed woman seated within. It was the former wife he had abandoned. “I always hoped I should live to see you brought to this,” she said, looking straight at him. Yet he showed no sign of shame or distress. “What a blessing,” he said, ate heartily, and went on his way. Such steadfastness is rare indeed. His resolve to follow the Buddhist path was so firm that even an encounter like this caused him no pain.