What keeps the ghosts of the sisters, Matsukaze and Murasame, behind in the land of the living is their shared emotional tie to their past. It is the love of the dead poet Yukihira that tethers their souls to Suma Bay, despite what is mandated by their religion and society to not put that much stock into such a hedonistic tendency, not to mention how far below Yukihira the sisters’ station in life is. However, Murasame breaks free of the living world and ceases her pining in the end, but her sister, Matsukaze, does not. She is trapped in her own delusions, miserable and now alone twice over. In short, the point of the Matsukaze is to avoid tethering oneself to worldly things like the sisters did, not to refuse to forget as they did Yukihira, as it only causes torment.
The Chorus touches upon this in their speech from lines 247-282. The point is most directly addressed in lines 270-282, however: “Our love grows again, / And gathers like dew / On the tip of a leaf / So that there’s no forgetting. / Not for an instant. / Oh endless misery! / ‘This keepsake / Is my enemy now; / For without it / I might forget.’ / The poem says that / And it’s true; / My anguish only deepens.”
The use of the words “misery” and “anguish” paired with “love” is interesting, and what bridges the gap between them is the girls’ refusal to “forget.” This illustrates the central point of the play, though it lacks the important lesson taught to us by Murasame in her important act of finally letting go and moving on. These words, at the end of the play, only still ring true for Matsukaze.
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