The Wind In the Pines 2

("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is my version of a well-known Noh play.) 2. The Beach, After Dark The coast has drowned in the gloomy night, but the moon shines. Two women in white come along the shore - Matsukaze, with her sister Murasame. They seem to float like smoke, in dresses with long, wide sleeves, their hair in tresses. MATSUKAZE The sad waves lap on our feet, then slide back. Like hope, they meet us running, then dissipate. Once spent, they slink off, ashamed, but can't prevent falling down to the cold sea. This is how it must always be. MURASAME When the tide relinquishes its assault on land and drains away, it is sure to strand small pools among the boulders, strewn along the beach. And, all too soon, the life in these tiny oceans, forlorn, will fade, like you and I, before the dawn. MATSUKAZE The moon can't cast any light through the pine. Our lovely sleeves, weighted down with brine, will tire us quickly. Crabs without shells, we are women who have no lover. Smell the sea fog, sister! Like a clammy dress, it clings to us, like our loneliness. MURASAME Salt in everything. In our hair, our skin. It sucks out our essence, leaves us thin and pale. Our only company, the moon ... and she will weaken and flounder, soon enough. She stirs the ocean, churning chill water, exciting in us a hopeless yearning. MATSUKAZE I hear the fishermen out on the sea, and I want there to be a man for me. They call, one to another. Out there. I smell smoke stinging the air, but no woodsman sees my boxwood comb. They cut fresh reeds, not for my home. MURASAME Look, sister! The moon's in my pail! And in yours, too. But there it sails, up in the sky, singular, not two. These little moons are like me and you, illusions that can never truly be, two facets of one destiny.