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More Portmanteau Plays
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Год написания книги
2018
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There is a mist at Kyushu—and I feared to lose my way.
OBAA-SAN
Did you pass a little lady—Aoyagi, by name—alone—
THE GAKI
It seems—I met a little lady.—She was not happy.—That one?
OBAA-SAN
Where?
THE GAKI
I am a stranger here—I cannot say. Over there—or over there.
OBAA-SAN
She will come to me, perhaps.
THE GAKI
Do you know her?
OBAA-SAN
She is my daughter,—Aoyagi.
THE GAKI
Do you not fear for her?
OBAA-SAN
Perhaps.—She will be here soon.—Riki has gone for her.
THE GAKI
She must know the way.
[The voices of O-Sode and O-Katsu are heard.
This has been a restless night for age. (He disappears. O-Sode-San and O-Katsu-San enter)
OBAA-SAN
Good-morning, O-Sode-San. Good-morning, O-Katsu-San.—The lily hands of sleep have passed you by.
O-KATSU-SAN
A strange unrest has seized upon me. I think—and think of my little one. She is glorious in my heart, and words with wings seem to flash before my eyes like fireflies in the darkness.
O-SODE-SAN
I, too, have lived in words.
O-KATSU-SAN
Obaa-San, is it not wonderful to put a joy or pain in words?
OBAA-SAN
Ah, yes—if there is anyone to hear them. All my long, long years before Aoyagi came to me, my heart sang, and words freighted with my dreams and my love would come to me—here; and they would die because they found no ear attuned to them.—Tell me what you thought, O-Sode-San.
O-SODE-SAN
The moon in calm restlessness
Shows the water grasses of the River of Heaven,
Swaying in the cool spring air—
I know the time to meet my lover
Is not too far away.
OBAA-SAN
Every one has a poem in his heart, I believe.—What was your poem, O-Katsu?
O-KATSU-SAN
Oh, messenger of the other world,
My little one is young;
She can not find her way—
Do you kindly take my little one
Upon your warm, broad back
Along the twilight path.
O-SODE-SAN
And you, Obaa-San,—was it words that kept sleep from your eyes?
OBAA-SAN
Ay, bitter dream-words. And for the bitterness I am paying dearly.—Over and over the words came to me:
Here lies my daughter's sleeping body
On the mat beside me.
But her soul is far away
Asleep in her lover's arms—
And I, her white-haired mother,
OBAA-SAN
Did you pass a little lady—Aoyagi, by name—alone—
THE GAKI
It seems—I met a little lady.—She was not happy.—That one?
OBAA-SAN
Where?
THE GAKI
I am a stranger here—I cannot say. Over there—or over there.
OBAA-SAN
She will come to me, perhaps.
THE GAKI
Do you know her?
OBAA-SAN
She is my daughter,—Aoyagi.
THE GAKI
Do you not fear for her?
OBAA-SAN
Perhaps.—She will be here soon.—Riki has gone for her.
THE GAKI
She must know the way.
[The voices of O-Sode and O-Katsu are heard.
This has been a restless night for age. (He disappears. O-Sode-San and O-Katsu-San enter)
OBAA-SAN
Good-morning, O-Sode-San. Good-morning, O-Katsu-San.—The lily hands of sleep have passed you by.
O-KATSU-SAN
A strange unrest has seized upon me. I think—and think of my little one. She is glorious in my heart, and words with wings seem to flash before my eyes like fireflies in the darkness.
O-SODE-SAN
I, too, have lived in words.
O-KATSU-SAN
Obaa-San, is it not wonderful to put a joy or pain in words?
OBAA-SAN
Ah, yes—if there is anyone to hear them. All my long, long years before Aoyagi came to me, my heart sang, and words freighted with my dreams and my love would come to me—here; and they would die because they found no ear attuned to them.—Tell me what you thought, O-Sode-San.
O-SODE-SAN
The moon in calm restlessness
Shows the water grasses of the River of Heaven,
Swaying in the cool spring air—
I know the time to meet my lover
Is not too far away.
OBAA-SAN
Every one has a poem in his heart, I believe.—What was your poem, O-Katsu?
O-KATSU-SAN
Oh, messenger of the other world,
My little one is young;
She can not find her way—
Do you kindly take my little one
Upon your warm, broad back
Along the twilight path.
O-SODE-SAN
And you, Obaa-San,—was it words that kept sleep from your eyes?
OBAA-SAN
Ay, bitter dream-words. And for the bitterness I am paying dearly.—Over and over the words came to me:
Here lies my daughter's sleeping body
On the mat beside me.
But her soul is far away
Asleep in her lover's arms—
And I, her white-haired mother,
Другие электронные книги автора Stuart Walker
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