Requital of a Crane (A Japanese Folktale)
Requital of a Crane
One cold winter day, long, long ago, an elderly man was hauling kindling into town.
Bent nearly double by the weight of the wood stacked high on his back, he trudged forward, one slow step at a time. Powerful gusts of wind battered into him. Suddenly, from not far off, he heard a sharp, shrill cry. It pierced through the constant howls of the wind.
The Old Man looked out into the empty rice fields surrounding him. There, in the very middle of a square piece of land to his left, was a tall, white crane struggling to free its foot from a farmer’s snare.
That poor thing, the Old Man thought. Then he lowered the bundle of kindling from his back and stepped down into the soft mud of the barren rice field.
When the crane saw the Old Man approaching, it began flapping its wings wildly. It heaved its head backward and forward. It arched its long neck and made desperate attempts to take to the air.
Sensing the crane’s fear, the Old Man spoke out, Don’t be afraid, he said gently. I’m not going to hurt you.
Recognizing kindness in the Old Man’s heart, the crane lowered its wings, raised its head up high, looked at the Old Man, and waited calmly for him.
The Old Man continued approaching steadily. When he reached the crane, he spoke to it softly before bending down to untangle its captured foot. Don’t be afraid, he said. I won’t hurt you. Then he gently took the crane’s foot in his hand and removed the rope from it.
Sensing its freedom, the crane, without hesitation, quickly spread its wings and took to the air. The sudden movement and strength of the bird knocked the Old Man backward into the mud. Sitting there, his hands sunk up to his wrists in the soft dark soil, the Old Man looked up and followed the crane into the distance with his eyes. To his surprise, the crane turned back and flew three big circles over him, all the while calling out: Cawww! Cawww! Caaawwww!
That night at dusk, it began to snow.
At first, the snow fell lightly, soft flurries drifted about in the sky, but as the night deepened, the snow became heavier and heavier. Soon, the branches of trees outside the Old Man’s house were bending under the weight of it.
Huddled inside his tiny, weathered home, the Old Man spoke to his wife, On my way into town today, I saw a crane in the middle of Old Man Saito’s rice fields. Its leg was caught in a snare.
You didn’t let it go, did you? his wife asked.
Actually, I did.
You shouldn’t have done that, you know?
I know, but there was something about this crane. I don’t know … I just felt really bad for it. I couldn’t …
Just then, there were three quick knocks on the door of the Old Man’s house. They were immediately followed by someone calling out, Hello? Hello? Is anyone home? If somebody’s in there, please open the door. It was the voice of a young woman.
The Old Man and Old Woman looked at each other in surprise. They rarely had visitors, and they never had visitors at night. Somewhat reluctantly, the Old Woman pushed herself up off the floor and stood up. As she moved toward the door, she straightened her aging legs and back little by little.
At the door, the Old Woman undid the latch and then, using two hands, she slid the door open. It bobbed up and down as it moved, becoming jammed in its sliding track, then releasing. As the Old Woman shimmied the door open, an icy wind blew into the house and a drift of snow, almost knee deep, collapsed onto the floor of the house’s sunken foyer. To her astonishment, standing before the Old Woman in the strange luminescence of the falling snow, was a young woman she had never seen before. Snow was piled on the young woman’s shoulders and back. It was matted into here hair. What is a young girl like this doing all the way out here on her own? the Old Woman thought. And on a night like this …
Then suddenly, she blurted out, You must be freezing. Hurry up, and come inside.
I’m sorry, the Young Woman answered while bowing. And then, as she stepped into the Old Man’s house, she continued, I’m visiting some people who live in the area, but I can’t find my way. It’s gotten too dark and snowy. I don’t know where to go. The Young Woman paused for a moment, then continued, I don’t mean to be rude …
She looked pleadingly at the Old Woman’s feet and waited. Then, abruptly, she put her arms to her side, straightened her back, crisply bowed down from her waist in perfect form, and asked, Is there any way I could stay here with you for the night?
The Old Woman didn’t hesitate. She answered in a voice that both quivered and revealed her strength, You certainly are in a bind, aren’t you? Well, if you don’t mind staying in a poor old shack like this, you are certainly welcome. Come in. Come in.
Breathing a sigh of relief, the Young Woman removed her cold, wet shoes and stepped up into the Old Man’s house. That night, she meticulously helped the Old Woman prepare dinner, remove and clean the dishes, lay out the futons, and tend to the fire in the hearth.
The following morning,
before the first rays of dawn began lightening the sky, the Old Woman climbed out from her futon, folded it neatly, and slid open the door of the room where she and the Old Man slept. What she saw made her take a step back. Already, there was a fire in the hearth. And there, hanging from the ceiling over the fire, was a pot that had a pleasant smelling broth in it. Not only that, but as the Old Women looked from corner to corner of the house, she could see that it had already been swept and cleaned.
The Young Woman, who was busy mending the Old Man’s straw hat, smiled and said, Good Morning.
It appears you’ve been busy, the Old Woman answered, Thank you.
That day, when the Young Woman tried to open the door and say goodbye to the elderly couple who had so graciously opened their home to her, she found that the door was stuck shut. It had snowed so much throughout the night that none of them, not the Old Man, not the Old Woman, nor the Young Woman could open the door or any of the windows. They were snowed in.
The following day was no different. For two days, the Young Woman stayed with the elderly couple. She cooked their meals. She rubbed their backs. She straightened their house. She told them stories. She made them smile and laugh. She attended to all of the little things that the Old Man and Old Woman had begun to struggle with in their old age.
On the evening of the third night, while the three of them were sitting near the warm hearth drinking tea and talking, the Old Man turned to his wife and said, Words can’t begin to describe how wonderful these past two days have been, can they? I’ve never met a kinder, more hard working young woman in all of my life. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she could stay here with us forever?
The Old Woman turned to the Old Man, looked him straight in the eyes and smiled, Indeed, it really would be.
Upon hearing this, the Young Woman spoke. If you would like me to stay here, I can. I’d be delighted to, actually. The truth is, I don’t have a home. I don’t have anything, really. My mother and father died when I was young, and I don’t have any other relatives that I know of. I’m all alone.
The Old Woman’s eyes widened and her face paled with concern, Is that so? She asked. Are you really all alone?
The Young Woman nodded.
Well, if that’s the case, the Old Man enthusiastically interjected, Why don’t you stay here with us? Then he leaned forward and added with a big grin, It’d make us awfully happy if you did.
For many months,
the Old Man and Old Woman lived a simple and happy life with the Young Woman. They were poor, but they always had just enough food to get by on, and their days were filled with warm conversations and laughter.
Then one day, as the Old Man was preparing to head into town, the Young Woman asked him, Do you mind picking up some spools of silk while you are in town? I know we don’t really have the money, but if I had some silk, I could use that old loom of yours to make brocades. Then you wouldn’t have to carry kindling into town every week. You could sell my brocades instead.
Well … the Old Man began, Silk is expensive … But as he spoke, a strange feeling came over him and he consented. You know what? I’m sure I can find a way.
That evening, the Old Man returned home with the silk the Young Woman had asked for. She was delighted. Thank you! Thank you! she said. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.
And then to the Old Man and Old Woman’s surprise, the Young Woman took the folding screen she had used to make a sleeping area for herself and set it up so that it hid the Old Woman’s aging loom (which had been sitting in a corner of the house, untouched for many years) from sight.
What are you doing, the Old Woman asked?
I’m getting ready to do some weaving, the Young Woman answered.
I can see that, the Old Woman laughed, but what are you doing with that screen?
Well, the Young Woman stammered, Actually, I have a favor to ask of you.
What is it? the Old Woman asked.
I want you to promise me something, the Young Woman began. This may take a while for me to complete, she said while holding up the silk, but I need you to swear that you won’t look behind this screen while I’m weaving, not even once, no matter how long it takes.
The Old Woman thought this was a strange request, but she agreed to it, and the Old Man agreed to it too.
When the Old Woman awoke the next morning,
she heard the rhythmic sounds of the loom whooshing and pounding. At first, she moved toward the folding screen to check on the Young Woman and to take a peak at her skill with the loom, but then she remembered her promise and set about preparing breakfast.
The Old Woman filled three bowls with soup and set a place for the Young Woman, but the Young Woman didn’t come out from behind the screen. She didn’t even respond to the Old Woman’s calls. All morning, the only sound that could be heard in the house was the rhythmic clattering of the loom.
Lunch was no different. The Old Woman set a place for herself and the Young Woman, but the Young Woman didn’t move from her place behind the screen, nor did she answer the Old Woman’s questions.
This went on for three days and three nights. During this time, the Old Man and the Old Woman started to worry. They had never encountered anything like this before. For three full days and three full nights, the loom never ceased moving.
And then, on the morning of the fourth day, the house suddenly went silent. Looking tired and worn, the Young Women appeared from behind the screen holding the most beautiful brocade the Old Man and Old Woman had ever seen.
Take this into town and sell it, she said to the Old Man. And on your way home, buy some more yarn with the money you make. Then, without sitting down to talk or eat, she moved the screen, which had shielded her while she worked at the loom, over to the area where she slept, spread out her futon, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The Old Man held the brocade in his hands and couldn’t believe what he saw and felt. This is amazing! he said to the Old Woman. It’s like a cloud. It’s softer and lighter than anything I’ve ever seen.
In town,
the Old Man took the brocade to a few shops to see how much he could sell it for. While doing so, the Town Lord happened to pass by and catch a glimpse of it.
Hey, hey, hey. The Town Lord blurted out. If you’re selling that brocade, you can’t sell it to anyone but me. Then he took the brocade from the Old Man’s hands and replaced it with a heavy coin purse. Here, he said hastily, Take this. It should more than satisfy you.
The swiftness of this made the Old Man freeze up. He couldn’t move or react. He just stood there, the coin purse resting on his extended palm, staring at the back of the Town Lord, which was receding into the distance. When the Old Man finally regained his composure, he quickly began bowing and shouting repeatedly, Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you!
The money the Old Man had received from the Lord was much more than he had ever earned in his life. Ecstatically, he huddled the coin purse close to his body, bought some more silk for the Young Woman, then hurried home.
When he reached his house, he burst in through the front door and yelled out, Look at this! Look at this!
The Old Woman, who had been kneeling near the hearth attending to a stew, jumped backward in surprise. Before she could even begin to get up and move toward the Old Man, he was standing over her, pushing the Town Lord’s coin purse into her hand.
Look at this! Look at this!
The Old Woman took the coin purse and opened it. She peered inside, then gasped and drew it quickly to her chest. She covered the coin purse preciously with both hands and looked up at the Old Man. Wha … What’s this? She asked.
The Old Man didn’t answer her question. Instead, he anxiously inquired, Where is she? Did she leave? Where is she?
Huh? The Old Woman answered.
The girl! Where is the girl? the Old man asked more urgently.
She’s sleeping. She’s been sleeping all day.
That night,
after dinner, the Old Man and Old Woman sat near the hearth talking and staring at the gold coins that the Town Lord’s coin purse had contained. They lined them up across the floor of their tiny house and counted them in disbelief.
You said the Town Lord bought the brocade, right? the Old Woman asked somewhat skeptically.
Yeah. He just came up to me, put his coin purse in my hand, and said, “You can’t sell this to anyone else. This is mine.”
That’s unbelievable! she responded. I’ve never seen this much money in my entire life.
Me neither, the Old Man laughed. What will we do with it?
I don’t know.
I can’t wait to show the girl, the Old Man said. I hope she wakes up soon.
Don’t you wonder, though? the Old Woman suddenly asked.
Wonder what?
Wonder where she learned how to weave like that. Have you ever seen anything like that brocade before?
No … Nothing.
It’s like it wasn’t of this world, wasn’t it?
It was. You’re right. I didn’t even want to sell it!
The following morning,
the Old Woman woke to the whooshing and clacking sounds of the loom again. How can that be, she thought? She’s already at it again?
The Old Woman hurriedly stood up and, without tending to her futon, slid the paper covered door of her bedroom open and entered the main room. It was warm. Smoke was rising from the hearth. A pot of soup was hanging over the slight fire and bubbling softly.
The Old Woman stopped just beyond the doorway of her room and stood still. She moved her eyes from one part of the house to the other. The money that the Old Man and Old Woman had lined up across the floor the night before was still there, but the bag of silk that the Old Man had brought home was gone. The screen that the Young Woman had been sleeping behind was once again set up near the far wall, blocking the aging loom and its movements from the Old Woman’s sight.
The Old Woman’s chest swelled with curiosity. She quietly stepped across the room and edged near the screen. She peered at it from the corner of her eyes, trying somehow to see over or around it. She took out a broom and pretended to sweep. She inched closer and closer to the screen, but still, she couldn’t see anything on the other side of it.
Finally, her curiosity overwhelmed her. She tiptoed directly up to the screen, positioned her eye right in front of the narrow space between the screen’s panels, and peeked inside.
There, with its back to her, was a tall, gaunt, white crane. It was arching its long neck and plucking its own feathers from its wings and weaving them into the new brocade.
Ahh! the Old Woman gasped. And as soon as she did, the sounds of the loom slammed to a halt.
In the sudden silence, the Old Woman panicked and ran to the bedroom. Get up! Get up! she yelled. Old man, get up! In a moment, she was kneeling at the Old Man’s side, shaking him awake.
What? What? he asked. What is it?
It’s that girl, the Old Woman answered. She’s not what she seems.
Before the Old Man could respond, the Young Woman appeared over the Old Woman’s shoulder. The Old Man looked at her. She looked different. Her face was gaunt and weary. The edges of her body seemed somehow faint and hazy.
I’m sorry, the Young Woman began. I’m not what you think I am.
The Old Man was confused. He looked at the Old Woman. Her shoulders were trembling. Her eyes were locked on his.
He looked back at the Young Woman, and again something about her seemed to have changed.
All the while, the Young Woman continued a dry, monotone way, You have been very kind to me, Old Man. Not very long ago, you saved my life. I wanted to stay here with you for as long as I could, to show you my gratitude, but it’s of no use now. As she spoke, the Young Woman’s neck slowly grew longer. Her skin gradually grew whiter. Her fingers steadily retreated back into the palms of her hands. White feathers pushed their way out of her skin.
The Old Man panted for air. His eyes filled with fear. He scrambled backward.
It’s time for me to go, the Young Woman said, now in the form of a crane. I wish you the best. May the two of you always be well.
With that, the crane turned, and the door of the house suddenly slammed open.
Realizing that it was the Young Woman who was leaving, the Old Man shouted, Nooo. Don’t go!
But the crane didn’t listen. It didn’t even turn and look back. As soon as it stepped outside, the crane spread it’s wings and soared off into the sky.
The Old Man ran out of the house and looked up. He called out in sobbing gasps, Noooo.
Wait!
Please, don’t go!
It’s been so nice having you here.
As he pleaded, the Old Woman joined him. I’m so sorry, she shouted. I shouldn’t have looked behind the screen … Please, don’t go.
But the crane was gone. It was nowhere in sight.
The Old Man and Old Woman stood just beyond the front door of their little home. They looked sadly at each other for what seemed like a long time. Finally, the Old Man bowed his head and turned to walk into his house. Just then a loud Cawww came from overhead. He and the Old Woman looked up into the sky and there was the crane, flying over them. It swooped low and circled the house three times. Cawww. Cawww. Cawwwww, it screeched.
A warm feeling spread over the Old Man and Old Woman’s bodies. They smiled. Then the Old Man called out, Thank you! Thank you for everything! Wherever you go, wherever you are, be well!
As the crane flew off into the distance, the Old Man and Old Woman stood in place and watched it. They watched it until it turned into a tiny speck in the sky and then disappeared.
The Old Man turned to the Old Woman. He put his arm around her. Then he led her back into their humble home. As they entered, the fire flickered, and the gold coins that were lined up across the floor gave off a faint glimmer.
Thats a lovely story! Throughly enjoyed it especially since I'm in Japan now!
You are? Whereabouts and for how long? I thought maybe you’d be at Steemfest.
Been here for two weeks now, currently at Nakatsugawa visiting the ancient villages. Its stunning here. Sadly will be leaving on Monday.
I'm here with my family otherwise would have definitely tried to meet up with you guys.
I’ve never been there before. From what I’ve read, the villages sound great. Now I have to go check your wall and see if you’ve posted any pics.
It's so difficult to do a quality post while on the road, and I have tonnes of photos and video to sort out when I get home. Definitely will be posting about them. But yes, both the villages where really nice and well preserved. A tad bit touristy as expected but not overly.
Japan definitely does tourism;-) It’s so hard to travel here on weekends and holidays because of all the people who go to the same places.
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Beautiful story... it seems to bring back faded memories... i may have heard it a long time ago, but a very welcome read again... Thank you!
I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading it!!!
One of my favorites. Good writing! So... do Kasajizo next, eh? ;)
You know, I’ve never read that one, but I have it on a list of folktales to read and translate/interpret. On deck is a shorter one about an old man’s encounter with a tengu. I can’t think of the title offhand.
Btw, I’ve been meaning to tell you for some time that the haiku on your website, the one about the moon being left at the window sill, led to a great conversation with my father-in-law. Thanks!
Wow really? It is a good one. I think the best of these folktales for teaching the value of compassion and kindness. Omushibi Kororin might be close, but I never really liked second half with the evil old man and woman. Kasajizo is more pure. Anyway, I look forward to your next translation (all translation is also interpretation, so I'd just say "translation")
Ah is that the one from Ryokan? This one. If so, that is one of my favorites. I really should translate and post some more from Ryokan. He was an interesting fellow.
I'm happy to hear it led to good conversation with your father-in-law. Very cool!
That’s the haiku. I brought that up one night and my father-in-law’s eyes lit up and he couldn’t stop talking. It was great! Based on what my father-in-law had to say, Ryokan sounds like he was an interesting person.
You’re right about translation involving a lot of interpretation. The text I used for this, though, was really spare, which I think is typical of most folk tales, so I really filled it out and created scenes that I thought would make it work as a story. That’s why I wasn’t sure if translation would be accurate or not. I basically took the plot points, characters, and settings and used them as markers to write a story around. I started doing this almost two years ago and then stopped for no reason. It was nice to pick it up again.
It was indeed. I'll write a bit more about him sometime. You've got him on my mind now.
I used to do the same type of translation years ago. When I first came to Japan and was studying Japanese, I had some very basic readers that were simple elementary school level Japanese and traditional folktales. For my website at the time I would translate them to English, adding a lot more detail. That was fun.
Did you ever publish them anywhere other than your blog, or hear of anyone publishing books and/or making money from translations like this?
A beautiful lesson about offering kindness towards others in need.
I’ve always liked stories like these, about gods disguised as beggars who approach typical people looking for help. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t realized that this was another one of those stories until I read your comment. Thanks!
Thanks for sharing your adaptation. I was surprised to learn that the band The Decemberists have an album called “The Crane Wife” that was inspired by this story.
Was that album inspired by this story? I didn’t realize that.
I never owned that album, but it was a big part of my environment in my mid-20s. For a long time, many of the cars I rode in and bars I drank in played that album. I’ll have to listen to it again.
Sometimes strange details and connections like this really make me feel like my life is going in circles;-)
The album was very definitely inspired by this folk tale, with subtle differences (the man pulls an arrow from the crane's wing). You have to give it another listen with Requital of a Crane in mind.
I will. Thanks!
I finally got around to listening to Crane Wife. What a strange cleections if memories and sensations it brought back. I was in a dark place when that album came out and I didn’t care for it at the time much because of its melancholy tone, but it’s really quite beautiful. And, yes, keeping this story in mind while listening to it brought both the song and this story more to life. I guess there is another variation of this story that the Crane Wife is based on. That’s according to Wikipedia though: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsuru_no_Ongaeshi
Glad you revisited it. It is a beautiful album.
Quite an amazing tale! Sad that some fairytales don't end up with a perfect ending.
Well, the actual last words for this were something like, And the Old Man and Old Woman lived happily together for the rest of their days with the money they had received from the Swan-Woman’s brocade. They didn’t get to remain with the young woman, but the story says they were happy.
I prefer more open ended endings. I tried to be true to the story with the imagery in the final, while leaving it the final ending up to the reader. I hope I achieved that.
I’m sorry I delayed responding to this. I tend to leave things that require more focus to a time when I have clearer head space. I can see you’ve had a lot of wonderful and well-deserved feedback in the mean time.
I read this twice. :)
I always look for folklore that I can read to my kids, and I love the theme covered here and would want to share that with them. So a part of me wondered if you might have made this a more compact read, while maintaining the integrity of the tale. Not a lot shorter mind you, I just felt there were opportunities as I read. But I have no experience in translations and just how much, if any, creative license is permitted. I also wondered on the way you did the dialogue in italics. Is that a Japanese folklore thing? It threw me a little.
Overall, I loved the sensitivity of this piece. It was a wonderful choice for your project. The symbology of birds in stories always interest me, so your introduction of the crane was much appreciated. Now it’s more than just origami to me. Hehe.
Thank you for sharing this, I wasn’t sure you would but had hoped. I didn’t expect you’d format the post so beautifully with the artwork. You’ve pleasantly surprised me with your writing and good taste! ❤️
I was a little surprised by the length of this one as well. I’ve translated four other tales and they were all about half the words of this one. I don’t know if I changed my style or not. I haven’t tried a translation like this in over a year and I wanted to jump into the writing with a fresh start so I didn’t look back at any of my other writing, or anyone else’s.
I really don’t know how much leeway you get when translating, but the text I worked from was very bare so I took a lot of liberties. I enjoy writing, but I’ve never really had ideas come to me whole, so for me it’s nice to have a very basic road map like the text I used to create the details around. I try to approach it as if I were writing a short story. Often times, folk tales are very sparse in their details. I want to do my best to fill those in with the details I’ve seen and sensed while living in Japan.
As for the italicized dialogue, that’s something I picked up at college. I was told that thoughts and dialogues could be written in italics without quotations and ever since the first time I tried formatting a piece like that, I preferred the way it looked.
A heartwarming piece of folklore. An absolutely beautiful story of how kindness counts in life. I could read this over and over for its beauty and for the loosely bound lessons in life.
Thank you for such a wonderful few moments. This surely made my day.
Wow! Thank you for such a nice and encouraging comment. I’m glad you enjoyed reading this story!
I absolutely did! I look forward to more!
Your post had been curated by the @buildawhale team and mentioned here:
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