Oct 15, 2026 · 6 hr 26 min · 72 segments
"Priest and His Disciples" by Hyakuzō Kurata, translated by Shaw, delves into the intricate dynamics between a spiritual leader and his followers, exploring themes of faith, guidance, and the quest…
Recording by Expatriate in Bangor, Maine Induction Mortality, a vision that came to me once on a day.
Man, walking on the face of the earth, I am born, and bathed in sunlight and breathing in the atmosphere, I live.
Truly I live.
See, that beautifully colored arch of a sky, and this black earth on which these naked feet of mine walk with firm step, luxuriant trees and grasses, flying and frisking birds and beasts, and better still the preciousness of woman, the love of children.
Ah, I would live, I would live.
Pauses.
Up to this day I have known all manner of grief, but the more I suffer the more I like this world.
Ah, strange world, I cling to thee.
Lovable Shaba, I would play in the forests of worldly passions.
I would live a thousand, nay ten thousand years, forever, forever.
A being with covered face appears.
Being, what are you? Man, I'm a man.
Being, then you're a thing that dies, aren't you? Man, I'm alive, that's all I know.
Being, you evade again, I see.
Man, my father died, my father's father too.
Oh, many of my beloved neighbors also have died, but that I shall die I cannot believe.
Being, you're spoilt, aren't you? Man, after a moment's hesitation.
In truth I'm afraid.
I fear I may die.
Ah, you've looked through my heart.
The truth is I think I may die.
For from the beginning my ancestors, the wise patriarchs, have called themselves mortal.
Being, it's the truth.
Like birds and beasts, grasses and trees, fishes and shells, you die.
Man, who are you, you who speak with these words of authority? Being, I'm the servant of that which never dies, don't you know me? Man, I seem to know you, but no, I don't after all.
Recording by Expatriate in Bangor, Maine Induction Mortality, a vision that came to me once on a day.
Man, walking on the face of the earth, I am born, and bathed in sunlight and breathing in the atmosphere, I live.
Truly I live.
See, that beautifully colored arch of a sky, and this black earth on which these naked feet of mine walk with firm step, luxuriant trees and grasses, flying and frisking birds and beasts, and better still the preciousness of woman, the love of children.
Ah, I would live, I would live.
Pauses.
Up to this day I have known all manner of grief, but the more I suffer the more I like this world.
Ah, strange world, I cling to thee.
Lovable Shaba, I would play in the forests of worldly passions.
I would live a thousand, nay ten thousand years, forever, forever.
A being with covered face appears.
Being, what are you? Man, I'm a man.
Being, then you're a thing that dies, aren't you? Man, I'm alive, that's all I know.
Being, you evade again, I see.
Man, my father died, my father's father too.
Oh, many of my beloved neighbors also have died, but that I shall die I cannot believe.
Being, you're spoilt, aren't you? Man, after a moment's hesitation.
In truth I'm afraid.
I fear I may die.
Ah, you've looked through my heart.
The truth is I think I may die.
For from the beginning my ancestors, the wise patriarchs, have called themselves mortal.
Being, it's the truth.
Like birds and beasts, grasses and trees, fishes and shells, you die.
Man, who are you, you who speak with these words of authority? Being, I'm the servant of that which never dies, don't you know me? Man, I seem to know you, but no, I don't after all.
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