オツベルと象 English

...as told by a certain cowherd

The First Sunday

Otsubel, now there's a man for you.

He's set up six threshing machines, going non-non-non-non-non-non, making a tremendous racket.

Sixteen peasants, their faces gone completely red, pump the machines with their feet, threshing through mountains of rice stalks one after another.

The straw is flung steadily backward and piles up into new mountains.

The area is strangely hazy and yellow with fine dust rising from the rice hulls and straw, like smoke from a desert.

Through this dim workroom, Otsubel strolls back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back, his large amber pipe in his mouth, eyes narrowed with care so as not to drop any ash onto the straw.

The shed is quite sturdy — as large as a schoolhouse — but with six modern threshing machines running together, it goes non-non-non-non, shaking the whole place.

Step inside and the vibration alone is enough to hollow out your stomach completely.

And indeed Otsubel was good at working up an appetite that way, so that at lunchtime he could eat a beefsteak six inches thick, or a steaming omelette as big as a dust rag.

And so, anyway, the non-non-non-non went on.

Then, for whatever reason, a white elephant came along.

A white elephant, mind you — not one that's been painted.

How did it come to be there, you ask?

Well, being an elephant, it had probably just wandered out of the forest without any particular reason.

When it slowly poked its head in at the entrance to the shed, the peasants were startled.

Why startled?

Good question — because you never know what it might do, do you?

Not wanting to get mixed up in anything, every single one of them kept on threshing his own rice with all his might.

But at that moment Otsubel, standing behind the row of machines with his hands in his pockets, shot a sharp glance at the elephant.

Then he quickly looked down and went on walking back and forth as though nothing had happened.

Then the white elephant lifted one foreleg up onto the floor.

The peasants were startled.

Even so, the work was pressing, and they didn't want any trouble, so they looked away and kept on threshing.

Otsubel, in the dim back of the shed, took his hands out of his pockets and glanced at the elephant once more.

Then, as if utterly bored, he made a show of a great yawn, clasped his hands behind his head, and went on pacing.

Then the elephant pushed both forelegs in energetically and made to climb up into the shed.

The peasants flinched; Otsubel, too, was a little startled, and puffed out a breath of smoke from his large amber pipe.

Even so he kept up the pretense of noticing nothing, and went on walking slowly about.

And then at last the elephant came lumbering in.

And it began ambling casually in front of the machines.

But with the machines spinning furiously, rice hulls pelted the elephant like a sudden shower or a hailstorm, pattering and crackling against it.

The elephant looked distinctly annoyed and narrowed its small eyes, but on closer inspection it was clearly smiling a little.

Otsubel finally steeled himself, stepped out in front of the threshing machine, and was about to say something to the elephant, when the elephant spoke first — in a beautiful, warbler-like voice — and said this:

"Oh, this is no good. The sand hits my teeth so fast."

Indeed the rice hulls were pattering, pattering, pattering against its teeth, and also bouncing off its pure white head and neck.

Now, Otsubel was staking his life on this.

He shifted the pipe to his right hand, steadied his nerves, and spoke:

"What do you think — is it interesting here?"

"Interesting indeed."

The elephant tilted its body sideways, narrowed its eyes, and answered.

"Why not stay on here with us?"

The peasants caught their breath and stared at the elephant, dumbfounded.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Otsubel suddenly began to shake all over.

But the elephant, completely unperturbed,

"I don't mind staying."

said that.

"Is that so. Then let's do that. Let's say it's settled then."

Otsubel said so, his face crumpling up, turning bright red with delight.

Well, just like that, the elephant was now Otsubel's property.

Just wait and see — Otsubel will either put that white elephant to work or sell it off to a circus, and either way he'll make ten thousand yen or more.

The Second Sunday

Otsubel, now there's a man for you.

And that elephant he'd so cleverly made his own in the threshing shed the other day — it's a remarkable creature too.

It has the strength of twenty horses.

For one thing, it's pure white all over, and its tusks are made of proper, beautiful ivory throughout.

Its hide is all fine, sturdy elephant skin.

And it works tremendously hard.

But the reason it earns so much is still because the master is shrewd and capable.

"Hey, wouldn't you like a watch?"

Otsubel came to the front of the log-built elephant shed, his amber pipe in his mouth, face screwed up, and asked this.

"I don't need a watch."

The elephant laughed and answered.

"Come now, try having one — it's a fine thing."

Saying this, Otsubel hung a large tin clock around the elephant's neck.

"That's quite nice."

The elephant said so too.

"You'd better have a chain to go with it too."

Otsubel, no less, took a chain weighing a hundred kilos and fastened it to the elephant's foreleg.

"Yes, the chain is quite nice."

The elephant took three steps and said so.

"What about wearing some shoes?"

"I don't wear shoes."

"Come now, try wearing some — they're a fine thing."

Otsubel, face screwed up, fitted large red papier-mâché shoes onto the elephant's hind heels.

"That's quite nice."

The elephant said so too.

"The shoes need some ornaments."

Otsubel was already in a great hurry, and pressed four-hundred-kilo weights into the shoes on top of the elephant's feet.

"Yes, that's quite nice."

The elephant took two steps and said so, looking as though it were truly delighted.

The next day, the large tin clock and the worthless paper shoes had already torn, and the elephant went about with just the chain and the weights, in great contentment.

"Sorry to ask, but taxes are so high — could you haul some water from the river today?"

Otsubel clasped his hands behind his back, screwed up his face, and said to the elephant.

"Sure, I'll fetch water. I'll haul as many loads as you like."

The elephant narrowed its eyes with pleasure and that afternoon hauled fifty loads of water from the river.

Then it watered the vegetable field.

In the evening the elephant was in its shed, eating ten bundles of straw and looking at the three-day moon in the west,

"Ah, how pleasant it is to work — how refreshing."

and saying that.

"Sorry to ask, but the taxes have gone up again. Could you carry some firewood from the forest today?"

Otsubel put on a red hat with a tassel, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said this to the elephant the next day.

"Sure, I'll bring firewood. It's nice weather, isn't it? I actually love going into the forest."

The elephant laughed and said this.

Otsubel was a little startled and nearly dropped his pipe — but by then the elephant was already walking away in such evident good cheer that Otsubel calmed himself, put the pipe back in his mouth, gave a small cough, and went off to check on the peasants' work.

That afternoon the elephant hauled nine hundred bundles of firewood in half a day and narrowed its eyes with pleasure.

In the evening the elephant was in its shed, eating eight bundles of straw and looking at the four-day moon in the west,

"Ah, that's refreshing. Santa Maria."

and reportedly said this to itself.

The day after that,

"Sorry to ask, but the taxes have gone up fivefold. Could you go to the smithy today and blow on the charcoal?"

"Sure, I'll blow on it. If I tried in earnest, I could blow rocks away with just my breath."

Otsubel was startled again, but he steadied himself and kept smiling.

The elephant trudged over to the smithy, folded its legs and sat down, and spent half the day blowing on the charcoal in place of the bellows.

That evening the elephant was in its shed, eating seven bundles of straw and looking at the five-day moon in the sky,

"Ah, I'm tired. How good this feels. Santa Maria."

and said this.

So, from the next day on, the elephant worked from morning.

Yesterday it got only five bundles of straw.

It really is something — to have that kind of strength on just five bundles of straw.

The elephant is truly economical.

And that's all because Otsubel is clever and capable.

Otsubel, now there's a man for you.

The Fifth Sunday

Otsubel? That Otsubel — I was about to bring it up too — he's gone.

Now just calm down and listen.

That elephant I mentioned earlier — Otsubel treated it a little too harshly.

As the treatment kept getting harsher, the elephant stopped smiling much.

Sometimes it would look down at Otsubel with the eyes of a red dragon, staring steadily like this.

One evening the elephant was in its shed, eating three bundles of straw and looking up at the ten-day moon,

"It's hard. Santa Maria."

and reportedly said so.

When Otsubel heard of this, he treated the elephant cruelly in every way.

One evening the elephant tottered and collapsed in its shed, sitting on the bare ground, eating no straw, looking at the eleven-day moon,

"Well then, farewell. Santa Maria."

and said this.

"Why, what's this? Farewell?"

The moon suddenly asked the elephant.

"Yes, farewell. Santa Maria."

"What is this — all that size and not a scrap of spirit. Write a letter to your friends."

The moon laughed and said so.

"But I have no pen or paper."

The elephant began to weep, softly and steadily, in a thin, clear voice.

"Here, this should do."

A sweet child's voice came from right in front.

The elephant raised its head and looked: a child in red robes stood there, holding out an inkstone and paper.

The elephant wrote the letter at once.

"I am having a terrible time. Everyone come out and help me."

The child immediately took the letter and walked off toward the forest.

The child in red robes reached the mountain at around lunchtime.

At that time the elephants of the mountain were in the shade beneath the sal trees, playing go and such, but they put their heads together and read the letter.

"I am having a terrible time. Everyone come out and help me."

The elephants rose as one and began to roar, turning pitch black with fury.

"Let us go after Otsubel!"

The chief elephant cried out high,

"Yes, let's go! Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa!"

and everyone answered in unison.

Now they all went rushing like a storm through the forest, Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa, flying toward the open plain.

Every last one of them was wild with fury.

Small trees were uprooted, thickets and everything else were smashed to pieces.

Gwaa, Gwaa, Gwaa, Gwaa — they burst out onto the plain like fireworks.

Then, running and running, when they finally spotted the yellow roof of Otsubel's estate at the far end of the plain, hazed in blue in the distance, the elephants erupted all at once.

Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa.

It was just half past one at the time; Otsubel was deep in his afternoon nap on his leather bed, dreaming of crows.

The noise was so great that Otsubel's peasants went out a little way past the gate, shaded their eyes with their hands, and looked out.

A forest of elephants, it seemed.

Coming faster than a train.

Their faces went white as sheets and they ran inside,

"Master! Elephants! They're swarming here! Master! Elephants!"

and shouted at the top of their lungs.

But Otsubel was still remarkable.

By the time his eyes snapped open, he already understood everything.

"Hey, is the elephant still in its shed? Is it in there? Is it? Is it in there? Good — shut the doors. Shut the doors! Hurry, shut the doors to the elephant shed! All right, bring some logs over here! Lock it in — blast it all, stop flailing about — lash those logs across! It can't do anything. I've been keeping its strength down deliberately. All right, bring five or six more. There, that's fine. That's perfectly fine. Stop panicking, I said! Now, all of you, get to the gate. Shut the gate. Put the crossbar in. Brace it. Brace it. That's it. Listen, everyone, stop worrying! Stand firm!"

Otsubel was already prepared, and cheered on the peasants in a fine trumpet-like voice.

But for all that, the peasants were beside themselves.

Not wanting to be dragged down by a master like this, they all wound towels or handkerchiefs or whatever whitish dirty-looking things they could find around their arms.

It was the sign of surrender.

Otsubel grew more and more frantic and ran here and there.

Otsubel's dog, too, was worked up, barking like a house on fire and racing around the estate.

Before long the ground was trembling and shaking, it grew suddenly dark all around, and the elephants had surrounded the estate.

Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa — out of that terrifying commotion,

"We'll rescue you now — stay calm!"

a gentle voice could be heard.

"Thank you. I'm so glad you've come — truly I am."

A voice came from the elephant shed as well.

Now the elephants outside grew still more furious, Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa, apparently running round and round the wall, and again and again an enraged trunk swinging from inside could be seen.

But the wall was cement with iron reinforcement inside, so the elephants couldn't break it easily.

Inside the wall, Otsubel alone was shouting.

The peasants were so dazed they could only wander about aimlessly.

Meanwhile, the elephants outside began using each other's bodies as steps to climb up over the wall.

Gradually their heads came looming over the top.

When Otsubel's dog looked up at those huge, wrinkled, grey faces, it fainted dead away.

Now Otsubel opened fire.

A six-shot pistol.

Bang, Gruraaaagaa, Bang, Gruraaaagaa, Bang, Gruraaaagaa — but the bullets didn't go through.

If they hit a tusk, they bounced right off.

One of them said:

"This thing is quite a nuisance — the pellets keep hitting my face."

Otsubel thought he had heard those words somewhere before at some time, and reached to reload the case from his belt.

Then one of the elephant's forelegs came over the wall and hung down inside.

Then another came over.

Five elephants toppled all at once from the wall and came crashing down.

Otsubel, still gripping the case, was already crushed flat.

The gate swung open, and Gruraaaagaa, Gruraaaagaa, the elephants poured in steadily, one after another.

"Where is the prison?"

They all surged toward the shed.

The logs were snapped like matchsticks, and the white elephant came out of the shed, greatly emaciated.

"Oh, thank goodness — you've grown so thin."

They all moved quietly to its side and removed the chains and weights.

"Ah, thank you. I've truly been saved."

The white elephant smiled, with a touch of sadness, and said so.

Oh — [one character illegible] — you mustn't go into the river, I tell you.