The sliding screen door that protects the Buddhist altar is covered with a painting which depicts the life of Ono no Komachi, called “Gokusai-shiki Umeiro Komachi-ezu.” Komachi is represented by a white silhouette, and the girls dressed in pink are the Hanezu Odori dancers. The man with lightly colored cheeks placed right in the middle of the panel is the image of the General as he crosses the mountains. The image of Komachi exudes a sense of peacefulness, spending her last years surrounded by the lively local children.
Another panel depicts a scene with three characters: Komachi, a man, and a greenish-yellow parrot. The scene depicted is from the tale “Parrot Komachi.”
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It was during the era of the 57th emperor, Emperor Yōzei. He loved Waka poetry and wished to start a collection, but he was having trouble finding the right poems that really spoke to him. Then he remembered the stories of Ono no Komachi, the talented court attendant who served the emperor before him, Emperor Ninmyō. “She must be over 100 years old by now, but I bet her talent and wisdom is as sharp as ever.” Emperor Yōzei ordered the new chief counselor to pass along a poem he wrote for Komachi, and to report back her response. Depending on her response, he would decide whether or not to invite her back to the imperial court.
As the counselor approached Komachi, he was surprised by how fragile and old she looked. Regardless, he passed the emperor’s poem to her. She was delighted to hear that the emperor had sent her a poem, but her eyesight was not good enough to read it on her own. The counselor opened up the poem and read it aloud for Komachi to hear:
Although above the clouds things do not change from the past,
Do you look back fondly on your time spent within the jeweled curtains?
“Just like the clouds in the sky, so too does the imperial court never change. Don’t you miss your time spent in the beautiful court?”
Komachi listened attentively and replied,
“What a lovely poem! An old woman like myself can no longer write good poetry, but I hope the emperor will accept my reply with one letter.”
Shocked, the counselor said,
“I must admit, that’s a bit unexpected. A lot of thought was put into arranging this poem for you, and you think you can respond to the emperor with just one letter?”
But Komachi did not waver.
“Just respond back with “Zo.”
“‘Zo’? What do you mean, ‘Zo’?”
“If the emperor can figure it out, the placement of the letter “Zo” will change the meaning of the poem he wrote for me. Now, please re-read the emperor’s poem, but replace “Do you” with “You do.”
Although above the clouds things do not change from how they were in the past,
You do look back fondly on your time spent within the jeweled curtains.
“Just like the clouds in the sky, so too does the imperial court never change. I dearly miss my time spent in the beautiful court.”
The counselor was stunned. Somehow she managed to make a responding poem with just the addition of one letter.
“I don’t know what to say...is this some sort of ancient technique?”
Komachi answered,
“This is called “parroting.” The same way a parrot repeats the words of a person.
Even over 100 years of age, Komachi had not lost her touch.
