Cuckoo Call

Cuckoo Call

Midori paced the floor of her room, her tiny barefoot feet sliding over the tatami mats. She felt a deep squeezing sensation in her heart, a pain so heavy that she felt faint. She sighed. Why did Prince Kitaro favor Suki? Just the other night he had promised her his love in the plum garden. She could still see him in her mind: the two of them holding hands as they stood together and stared at the setting sun; the Prince whispering sweet words in her ear, telling  her how much he loved her; that no beauty in the Imperial Court was as wonderful as her. Midori sighed again and shook her head. Was it all a dream? But no, it could not be. There, on her desk, was a tanka written by the Prince himself, in his fine bold script. He was such a fine poet, the Prince, truly magnificent in his verse--and a fine lover as well. 

With a dull ache in her chest, Midori walked over to her desk and read the tanka. A tear streamed down her cheek as she devoured his words, looking for any clues in his message. She felt like her heart had turned to glass--the pain hurt so much. Suddenly, she broke into a fit of wild sobbing. She threw down the poem and rushed to her bed, pressing her face down on her pillow as deep sobs and moans rocked her body.

"What should I do?" She thought in a fit of despair. She could not bear to lose the man she loved so much.

As she mourned her fate and the cruelty of life, she heard a bird chirping outside. She tried to ignore the bird, but it continued its incessant chatter. A flush of resentment filled her face and her cheeks reddened. She pursed her lips and brushed her tears away as she got to her feet. She crept to the sliding door and opened it, looking out for the source of the sound. And then, she saw it. A cuckoo sitting on the branch of a cherry blossom tree. As she stared at it, a sudden flicker of life crept into her red, tear stained eyes. A faint smile lighted her face as she watched the bird. She knew then what she had to do.

Spring sunrise in the cherry blossom garden.

Soft pink petals blow in the breeze.

Old winter clings to the sakura branches,

But the cuckoo sings her song.