今は昔のこと、海辺の阿弥陀寺という寺に、芳一という目の見えぬ一人の琵琶法師が住んでいた。彼の弾く琵琶の腕前といったら見事なもので、とりわけ平家物語の弾き語りにかけては、並ぶ者がないとさえ言われていた。
Long ago, in a temple by the sea called Amidaji, there lived a blind biwa-priest named Hoichi. The skill with which he played the biwa was famous, and when it came to the recitation of the Tale of the Heike, it was said that no one in all the land could rival him.
その寺の周辺は、その昔、源平の戦いで滅び去った平家一門の墓が立ち並ぶ土地でもあった。村人たちの間では、夜な夜なこの辺りに亡霊が出るとの噂が絶えなかったが、芳一にはそのような怪異など縁のないことに思えていた。
The grounds around the temple were also the resting place of the Heike clan, who had been wiped out long ago in the Genpei war — row upon row of weathered tombstones stood among the pines. The villagers whispered that ghosts walked there on certain nights, but to Hoichi such tales had always seemed to belong to a world that did not touch him.
ある夏の蒸し暑い夜のことであった。和尚が法事のため留守にしており、芳一は一人縁側に腰かけて琵琶の調子を整えていた。すると、庭先で鎧のこすれるような足音が止まり、低くよく通る男の声が「芳一殿、芳一殿はおられるか」と呼びかけた。
One sultry summer night, the abbot was away conducting a memorial service, and Hoichi sat alone on the veranda tuning his instrument. Suddenly, in the garden, the sound of armor scraping armor came to a halt, and a low, carrying voice called out: "Master Hoichi — Master Hoichi, are you there?"
武士の口ぶりからすると相当に身分の高い者らしかった。「我が主君はかねてよりあなたの琵琶の評判を聞き及び、今宵ぜひお屋敷で一曲所望したいとの仰せである。お供願いたい」と告げられ、芳一はためらいながらも、断りきれず武士の手にすがって夜の闇の中へ出かけていった。
Judging from the man's manner of speech, he was clearly a samurai of high rank. "My lord has long heard tell of your skill upon the biwa, and tonight requests a performance at his residence. I am to escort you," the warrior said. Though Hoichi hesitated, he could not refuse, and so he laid his hand upon the warrior's and was led out into the dark of the night.
案内された屋敷の門は重々しく軋み、奥からは絹ずれの音や、女房たちの低い話し声が聞こえてきた。芳一が広間に通されると、目こそ見えぬものの、そこには数え切れぬほどの人々が集まっている気配が伝わってきた。
When he reached the residence, its gate creaked heavily open, and from within came the rustling of fine silks and the low voices of ladies-in-waiting. Once Hoichi was shown into the great hall, even his unseeing eyes could feel that the room was filled to overflowing with people.
「ぜひ壇ノ浦の戦いの段をお聴かせいただきたい」との所望に応じて、芳一は息を整えてから琵琶の絃を爪弾き始めた。やがて曲が安徳天皇の入水の場面に差し掛かるや、聴衆の中からあちこちですすり泣きが起こり、ついには激しい慟哭へと変わっていった。
"We beg you to play for us the chapter of the Battle of Dan-no-Ura," came the request. Hoichi steadied his breath and began to pluck the strings of his biwa. As the song approached the scene of the Emperor Antoku's plunge into the sea, sobs broke out in every corner of the audience, and by the close they had risen to a torrent of bitter weeping.
演奏が終わると、主君らしき者から「実に見事であった。ただし、この一件はくれぐれも他言無用に願いたい。また六日の間、毎夜お通いいただきたい」と固く口止めをされた。
When he had finished, a voice that seemed to belong to the lord himself spoke gravely. "Truly magnificent. But you must on no account speak of this to anyone. And for the next six nights, you must come to us each evening without fail."
芳一は不審に思いつつも、約束を破るどころではない剣幕に圧されて、毎晩一人で寺を抜け出すようになった。
Though Hoichi was uneasy, the tone of the warning was such that breaking the promise was unthinkable, and from that night on he slipped out of the temple alone every evening.