The Nō Plays of Japan — Context and Discussion

The Waki's Journey as a Framing Device

In several of the translated plays, the action begins with a waki—a travelling priest or wanderer—who announces his journey in a Song of Travel. In Kantan, the protagonist Rosei declares he has 'drifted from dusk to dawn and dawn to dusk,' seeking a sage to guide his life. This opening establishes a mood of spiritual seeking and sets the stage for the encounter that follows. The waki often arrives at a specific location—a village, a temple, a bridge—where he meets a local inhabitant who proves to be more than he seems. Waley's translations preserve the formulaic yet poetic quality of these openings, which serve to ground the supernatural events in a recognizable, earthly setting.

Dreams and Illusions as Dramatic Turning Points

The excerpt from Kantan centres on a magical pillow that grants the sleeper a vision of his future. Rosei, after laying his head on the 'Pillow of Kantan,' is visited by an envoy who declares him emperor. The ensuing choral passage describes a lavish palace, 'a courtyard strewn with golden and silver sand,' and a procession of vassal-kings. Yet the entire vision is framed as a momentary dream—the hostess is still heating millet. This device recurs in Nō: pivotal events are often revealed as illusions, memories, or supernatural visitations. Waley's translation captures the swift transition from mundane lodging to imperial splendour, then back again, emphasizing the plays' preoccupation with the fleeting nature of worldly glory.

Choral Commentary and Lyrical Interludes

Waley's translations frequently shift between individual speech and collective choral passages, marked as 'CHORUS' in the text. In Kantan, the chorus takes over Rosei's narration, describing the vision in heightened, imagistic language: 'The light wells and wells like a rising tide.' This interplay between solo and ensemble voices is a hallmark of Nō, allowing for shifts in perspective and emotional intensity. The chorus often comments on the action or amplifies a character's inner state. Waley's rendering preserves the rhythmic, incantatory quality of these passages, which function almost like musical interludes within the dramatic structure.

Stage Directions and Theatrical Conventions

The excerpts include minimal but telling stage directions: 'Knocking,' 'While ROSEI is still chanting these words, the ENVOY enters,' 'ROSEI, who has been lying with his fan over his face, rises.' These details, along with the key to the stage plan in the front matter, indicate that Waley intended his translations to be read with an awareness of performance. The hashigakari (bridge), the shite's pillar, and the musicians' positions are all noted. Readers unfamiliar with Nō conventions can infer from these clues that the plays are highly stylized, with symbolic props (the fan, the pillow) and deliberate pacing. Waley's notes and introduction further contextualize the religious and literary background, but the excerpts themselves demonstrate how the text encodes theatrical practice.

Waley's translations reward a reader who attends to the interplay of voices—the waki's plain speech, the shite's lyrical revelations, the chorus's poetic commentary. The plays often hinge on a single, charged encounter or a dream-vision, and the language shifts accordingly between conversational and elevated. A first-time reader may find it helpful to read each play twice: once for the narrative, and again to appreciate the choral passages and stage directions that give Nō its distinctive texture.

Years shelving those Nō plays, I noticed how Waley’s stage directions let ghosts drift through pine shadows, unhurried as memory. It put me in mind of old Belasco’s theatrical memoirs, where even the gaslight feels deliberate, almost reverent. There’s a kinship there—both understand that silence on a page can hold more than any shout. The Life of David Belasco; Vol. 1 — Context and Discussion rests beside them now, patient as a folded fan.