Hear the Tide
A couple went to live near the seashore of an island, to see the sea and hear the beautiful sound of the tide.
It was in the summer. My wife and I took an ocean cruise ship and arrived at an island, which is actually a popular destination.
This was an island of Buddhism. Besides seven or eight shops, there were monasteries (and only monasteries) within 30li around the island. There were no inns on it; tourists would stay at monasteries. Pilgrims of this kind were mostly tourists; they were not pilgrims in the real sense.
We picked a quiet monastery, which was located near the seashore. It had three rooms and a balcony stretching out on the sea. The three rooms were occupied then, so the abbot agreed to reserve one room for us, once the pilgrims lodging here left. We temporarily lived in a loft near the sea.
The loft was quite good already. From its small window, you could see the sunset and one end of the gulf. Every time when the tide came, you could hear the sea water striking the rocks and see the water itself spraying into the air, and then falling, like a soft rain, a morning fog, or an evening cloud. Sometimes, the water smelled unpleasant, like raw fish. Sometimes, it smelled salty. It rushed into our small window, fell on our body and wet everything in our loft.
“If we can move to the room that stretched into the sea, the sea will fully belong to us.” My wife said, longing to move.
A few days later, some pilgrims had left and one room became available. And we moved here.
“Now, that vast water of sea – it fully belongs to us.” My wife said happily, as we were leaning again the rail of the balcony, watching the scenery near the sea.
The sea was quiet. Under our feet, the wave was sleepily caressing the rocks. On the dark surface of the quiet sea water, the moonlight paved a narrow pathway, flickering brightly with the color of silver. A hue of red from a distant lighthouse reflected on the sea, as if it were a ruby. Together with the color of silver, it revealed the mystery of the sea – not a mystery violent and unpredictable, but a mystery that was silent, gentle and full of joy. Beneath our feet lay the pathway of silver. Lightheartedly and quietly, we trod on it with an open mind and joy, towards the ruby-like red light.
My wife’s face leaned on my face; she was full of joy the same way I was.
The sea murmured under our feet, like a poet. The voice was as soft as the moonlight and as tender as the mist among the morning roses. It was as sweet as a lover’s whisper. Close to the ground and gently, it was like a breeze passing a string, or petals falling onto the water.
The sea was fast asleep.
Over the sea, islands, small and large, were hugging one another. Quietly, they entered their dreams as well.
The stars high above blinked their sleepy eyes and would fall asleep soon.
Gradually, we seemed to be asleep as well. Our mind and thoughts paused.
Suddenly, a bell rang from a distant monastery and woke the sea from its sleep. It excited the sea. Little by little, the sea water crept towards the rocks beneath us, generating a bubbling sound, as if someone were bubbling from under the sea. The color of silver roared like a silver dragon. Later, the clinking sound of the rocks beneath us became louder and louder, like a cymbal, or a bell.
There was no wind. The sea had woken up itself, full of energy. It turned itself over, yawned, then stretched itself and rubbed its eyes. The islands were on its way, so the sea hit them with its feet and hands, and bit them with its teeth. It became more and more excited, more and more powerful. The rocks trembled and resisted; it broke the sea’s waves.
The sea was injured and got angry.
It now roared striking the shore fiercely. It entered every crack of the rocks and hit the rocks from their backs. Then from the front of the rocks, the sea hit again.
The sound got louder. It sounded like a drum, a cymbal, someone shouting, crying, weeping, or hoofs beating, wheels running, wings of aircraft rumbling, or train sirens. They all mixed up and fought with one another.
The color of silver disappeared. The sea water marched on. It flooded the nearby islands. It floated up from beneath our feet and roared like thunder. The spoondrift hit us in an almost bloody manner.
“How terrifying!” My wife cried. “Will it collapse here?”
“That’s nonsense!”
“At least the sound is too terrifying!”
“The sound is splendid! Thisisthe beauty of the sea!”
“Look at that red spot of light!” She pointed to the distant lighthouse. “In the darkness, it looks like blood! So cruel!”
“If it were real blood, it would make the sea more magnificent! It’s always like this, you see!” I said, pointing to the sea, as the tide ebbed away. “It comes in and then retreats. That is what the story really is! It comes in fiercely and retreats softly! But both are so beautiful!” Anyway, she did not agree. She regarded it as something horrible and hated it. If I felt the same as she did, she would leave here immediately. But she would stay for two more weeks for me. I loved the sea when the tide rose. Even I had to stay in a room with my wife, I felt therefore rather content, to be able to hear the dim sound of the tide outside the closed window. It was rather fortunate for me to stay for two more weeks.
Original text in Chinese by Lu Yan (1901-1944); English translation by Di Fan.
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