BY TORSTEN SCHWANKE
(2009 – 2020)
Luke 3:22:
And the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
PART I
ADAM AND MILAN
SCENE I
(Adam's parlour. On the wall the face of the Virgin of Guadeloupe. Bookshelves on the walls, including the collected works of Goethe. Adam lies on his sofa under his grandmother's chandelier, leafing through a picture album).
ADAM
My darling Milan! Here in the picture I see
The radiance of your eyes, of your soul,
For your eyes are the mirror of the soul
And reveal your pure love
And your origin: Innocence is your origin!
You were two years old when we were
Together in Berlin. Here you feed
The ducks, and I sing your favourite song:
All my little ducks are swimming on the lake.
Here you pet a little dog for the first time,
That was an old lady's lapdog,
She held the lapdog asleep in her arms,
Then you stroked the lapdog tenderly.
And here I see you now in front of your house,
You play in the sand, you gather the chestnuts,
The cock crows, the hens hurry,
The mother hen comes with her little chicks.
The white cat plays with a mouse,
As women play with men in love.
My darling Milan, when I came then,
Then you cried with joy, Adam is coming!
Do you hear it, children? Adam has come!
Then you rushed to me with open arms,
You clasped my legs with love
And said, Adam, take me in your arms!
And I took you in my arms, Milan,
You clasped my neck in your embrace
And kissed my mouth with love!
Because you kissed so gladly and so tenderly,
I praised you as a great kisser before the Lord!
At the age of two you did not call me
Adam, then you called me Mom!
SCENE II
MILAN
I played with the chickens in the garden
And fought with the sticks against the nettles,
I also liked to go for a walk to the canal,
Where the sheep grazed on the dyke.
I loved to go for a walk along the forest path
To the horse pasture, to give sugar to the horses.
When I look at the pictures of my childhood
I will realise that my father
Is not to be seen in the pictures,
But Adam is to be seen. Dear Adam,
You were sitting by the bathtub, smiling,
As I played with my toy duck.
And when the sun shone in the hot summer,
Then you anointed my body with ointment.
When you're not there, Adam, I think
Of you, I'll carry in my heart,
To send you a loving greeting,
I'll paint a rainbow with colours
And write you a letter, Come back soon!
Then one morning you step outside the door,
The postman hands you my letter,
Then you open the letter and see the picture.
And read the greeting, I want to see you again!
Then you know, Adam, that I'm thinking of you,
When you're not here, I'll hold you in my heart
And long to see you again soon.
I know that my colourful letter pleased you,
Because you then gave me the cup
With those two little angel children
Who look from the clouds before Mary.
I have a little angel too,
The angel of love, as you always said.
Do you remember, my Adam, how we used to play,
I'm the love angel with the arrow
And shoot the arrow of love into your heart,
Then you were hit and wounded
And took me in your arms, I love you!
Now it is evening and night is coming,
And you put me to bed, singing and praying.
I beg you, Sing again of Mary!
You sing me the song of Mary's mantle,
Then you set up angels at my bedside
And wish me, Sweet dreams of paradise!
Then you kiss me, then you draw the cross,
Then soon I'll fall asleep at your hand.
SCENE III
ADAM
I was with you in the place where I was born,
We took a holiday there one summer.
You woke me up early in the morning, tenderly,
We looked at pictures of Our Lady,
The Great Mother, Black Mother of God!
I felt like a mother like Mary,
But you were my little baby Jesus!
As the prophet Isaiah once sang,
A child born to us, a son given!
MILAN
In the morning, when all the people were still asleep,
Then you and I were already in the playground.
Then you gave me a swing.
Then we had breakfast,
There was apple juice and white bread.
ADAM
All day long we were at the lake
And rejoiced in the chaste sister water.
MILAN
One moment we were alone.
ADAM
Then I loved you more than a mother,
I wanted to give you a new birth in my mind.
MILAN
You became solemn and smilingly poured
Three drops of water on my blond head.
ADAM
And on your behalf I have
Renounced evil, your enemy,
Promised to follow the love of God,
The love of God that Jesus gives us!
MILAN
Then you made the sign of the cross again.
ADAM
Now my Master Jesus often asks me, smiling,
John's baptism, tell me,
Was it of man or of the Lord?
SCENE IV
MILAN
And do you remember when I had the fever?
ADAM
Oh, I was tired of all men then,
I felt used, exploited,
I was burnt out and completely powerless.
I hear Bonhoeffer preaching to me,
Do not circle around the Christian's own pain,
Circle around God's suffering in the world!
Then Teresa of Calcutta spoke,
The Christ waits in the souls of children
Waiting for your love, waiting with hot thirst!
MILAN
I burned in the fever, crying I cried,
My dearest Adam must come to me now!
ADAM
With my last strength I rushed to you
And saw you lying in the cot with fever
And saw in your big hot eyes -
MILAN
What did you see in my eyes, Adam?
ADAM
I saw Christ's eyes full of suffering!
In your eyes I saw Christ's eyes!
Then I held Christ himself in my arms,
Then I gave medicine to Jesus Christ
And comforted Jesus with motherly love!
MILAN
That was in the beautiful Christmas season, wasn't it?
ADAM
We slept together in one bed,
You were asleep, I was talking to Mary
And asked Mary, Cover Milan
With thy starry mantle, O Mary!
And there I experienced the Christmas grace:
When I slept in a bed with thee,
I slept with Jesus Christ in the manger!
SCENE V
ADAM
Just as the new pope was crowned,
Then spoke the pope in his inaugural address,
Do not sow your lives in property,
Do not sow your lives in book learning,
Sow your love into souls,
For these seeds remain for eternity!
MILAN
You have sown your love
Into my soul. This seed will remain.
ADAM
There were many poems left unwritten
With all the toil and labour for your life,
But with the swan's feather of my love
And with the black ink of my blood
I wrote poems of a beautiful love
On the papyrus of your white soul!
MILAN
And do you even suspect what I took
From that treasure that is your soul,
Do you know what I've taken from your life
For the nourishment of my soul
And how much faith your example has taught me
And how foreboding of God was your face?
ADAM
With pain and with blood I must water
The seed of faith in the child's soul,
I must give my soul's suffering to Jesus!
I could only lay a foundation,
Another must build the house.
I could only sow the seed of faith
In your field, another must one day
Water that the tree of life may grow!
MILAN
The world is rushing in from all sides,
I fear, Adam, that I shall fall!
ADAM
I must set you free, beloved boy,
Set free even to the evil world!
I know there is a treasure house in your soul,
For you were brought up with
The mother's milk of Mary's breast!
Once you hear a word from Jesus Christ,
Then it will be like a childhood home to you.
I let you go, but not from my heart
And not from my weeping prayers!
MILAN
Trust me, believe in me!
I will never lose you from my heart,
Never the love you poured into me!
PART II
MASTER MILAN AND HIS TEACHINGS IN THE ART OF MEDITATION
CHANT I
MASTER MILAN AND HIS NOVICES
Following the instructions of his own Master, Master Milan moved to a forest and lived there in a tiger's den. The local goddess was gracious to Master Milan and often appeared before him in the most beautiful guise. She granted him many graces so that he made good progress in meditation. At that time, five novices came to the hermit to be initiated into wisdom by him. The novices spoke, The solitude of this place and all the terrors of this place are surely very helpful in making progress in meditation? Then Master Milan sang the following song in which he describes his hermitage and speaks of what is conducive to meditation:
I bow to my God,
I bow to my Master, I bow to the earth,
My own merits
Made me meet him.
This place has shown me
The tranquillity of my Master.
Here are fields, here are hills
In the beautiful land.
Green grass grows on the slopes,
Flowers bloom in the grass,
In the forest is a glade
Where the slender trees dance.
Monkeys play their games,
Many birds sing songs,
Bees are flying in the air.
Every day a rainbow shines
And in summer and in winter
Rain makes the earth fertile.
This is the place where Milan
Is joyful in the clear light
Of the knowledge of pure emptiness,
Joyful beyond all measure,
That Wisdom often appears to him,
Joyful, since so manifold
Knowledge has come to him,
Joyous even in confusion,
In the variety of its expression,
Joyful in his body
And his gracious karma,
Joyful in the midst of the terrors
Of the appearances of darkness,
Joyful in freedom of mind,
Free from foolish distraction,
Joyful beyond all measure,
However hard life may be,
Joyful in bodily health,
In freedom from the body's sickness,
Joyful because my sufferings
Have turned into happiness,
Joyful beyond measure
Because of my strength of spirit,
Joyful at the dance of the sacrifice,
At the dance before the golden shrine,
Joyful for this treasure
Of my now sung song,
Joyful beyond measure
Over sounds, words, syllables,
Joyful because words change
To gatherings of words,
Joyful in the pure sphere
Of trusting thought,
Joyful beyond all measure,
When thinking rises of its own accord,
Joyful when this my thinking
Reveals itself in beautiful variety.
Then Master Milan initiated his novices into the right kind of perception. And when he noticed that the right kind of perception was rising in them, he sang the following song, which is full of good advice:
Buddha, body of the law,
Teacher of the way to the other world,
Who with compassionate works
Joy is of living beings,
Be thou never parted from me,
Be the jewel of my crown!
Now, novices of my teaching,
Who sit to learn,
Many ways may there be
To practise the laws,
But this my practice‘s
Deep path is the best.
If you aspire to become a Buddha
Already in this world,
Pay no attention to your love,
Nor your hatred in life.
Do you pay attention to your love
And your hatred in life,
Do you do good, do you do evil
And fall into a bad state.
Do service to your Master,
But do not boast of service.
Do you boast of your own services,
Discord will divide you,
You, the disciples, with the Master.
And when discord has crept in,
You will not reach the goal of your striving.
Always keep your vows,
Therefore, do not sleep with the peasants.
For if you sleep with the peasants,
You will develop error.
Once the error has arisen,
The vows are lost.
When you study the Scriptures,
Be not puffed up with pride.
For when pride exists,
Then poison and ashes arise.
When poison and ashes arise,
Then you damage virtue.
Do you pray to a friend,
Do not do many worldly deeds,
For the many affairs of the world
Distract the pious striving.
If the striving is first distracted,
The blessing of the law ends.
When you practise the rituals,
Do not summon the demons.
If you quarrel with the demons,
ye become demons yourselves.
And if you become demons,
Be you as bad as the citizens.
Is wisdom born in you,
Speak not of special powers.
If one speaks of special powers,
Then the signs slip from you.
If you lose your power,
Your signs become worthless.
Always turn away from evil,
From sins and lies.
At funerals do not let yourselves
Be bribed by the rich.
And when you counsel men,
You shall not flatter men.
Shun laxity and sloth,
Work diligently, novices!
Then the novices asked Master Milan in what way they should exert themselves. Thereupon Master Milan instructed them in this song about the right form of exertion:
My Lord of Grace I beseech,
That he may give us joy
In the instruction of wisdom.
Now, ye youthful disciples
Should waste your inheritance
Not among the burghers of the cities,
They are all frauds,
Sometimes good, but mostly evil.
Turn your whole regard
To the holy law
And do not lose the path of light,
But stay with Master Milan.
More merit than reward be
Your piety and your practice.
Rise up wisdom within,
You shall see the veil of grace.
But this is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
When instructed by love
You become in self-control,
Listen carefully, novices.
If you live far away
Lonely on the high peak,
Think not of the amusements,
The pleasures of the bourgeois.
For if you think of the pleasures
And the citizens' amusement,
Will you be distracted from the thinking
Of your mind by the wicked.
Therefore gather your thoughts
Within yourselves at all times.
But that is not enough,
But make an effort, novices!
Do you slacken in your exercise,
Think of dying every day,
Pray for the hour of death
And be mindful of the evils
Of birth in the vale of tears.
Be ready to harden yourselves,
And think not of pleasure.
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
Seek wise instruction
In the deep-secret exercise,
You shall have but little thirst
For the knowledge of the learned.
If you have much of the knowledge of books,
You will be like the laymen,
And if these laymen rule,
Life will be wasted.
Far be laxity and sloth!
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
Wisdom will reveal itself to you,
Be not ready for gossip,
If you chatter and if you talk,
You only disturb the great goddess.
Avoid distraction.
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
When you are in the company
Of your Master, your Father,
Do not look at your father's faults,
For otherwise you will see nothing but faults.
Only practise clarity of mind at all times!
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
And are you and your brothers
In assemblies of consecration,
Take no heed of office or dignity,
For otherwise you will disturb the vows
By the passion of envy.
Therefore remain united, brothers!
But this is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
When you beg before the citizens,
Do not deceive these people
With the flattery of speech.
For if these people are deceived,
Then you yourselves will fall into sin.
Only be honest, tell the truth!
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices.
Never, in any place,
Be guided by your pride
And foolish infatuation.
When you are ruled by love,
Love is lost to the sacred law.
Only give up the passions,
The deceitfulness of lusts.
But that is not enough,
But exert yourselves, novices!
Those who are willing to exert themselves,
To them I give this precept,
Which in itself is so very good,
It will bring you salvation:
Always be ready to give.
After Master Milan had sung this, the novices practised contemplation and indifference to the things of worldly life. Then the novices asked their Master Milan to instruct them in the right kind of immersion. Master Milan told them to use the money only for necessities of life like food and clothing. And then he sang this song about immersion:
May our Lord and Master
Give it to us by his power,
That the path of true faith
And the practice of contemplation
Become defined perfect.
For the right view of life,
The realisation of the practice
And the fruits of your faith
Three points are really important.
The three points of true insight,
That is the unification of all
Appearance in thought,
Is the clarity of thought
And the absence of all selfishness.
To enumerate the three points,
Significant for realisation:
One is the transference
Of all worldly thoughts
To the one Absolute,
One is the beautiful state
Of pure bliss of Wisdom,
One is: Be always prudent.
Now the three points of practice
Are the practice in virtue,
Patience with all evils
And in the mind pure emptiness.
As for the fruit of faith:
You do not attain Nirvana
As a displacement from yourself,
You do not avoid the wheel of existence
As separate from yourself,
And your own thought
Becomes a Buddha state.
I mention one point in particular,
That of pure emptiness,
Pure, absolute emptiness.
Every master talks about this,
Who has understood the teaching.
But if you ponder over it,
You won't understand it.
But if you understand it all at once,
Then this point is won.
This crown jewel of all those
Who practise the laws,
Then the student has won,
When it shines in his mind.
Therefore, O my disciples,
Let your hearts rejoice always!
When Master Milan had finished this song, his novices asked, O Master Milan, is it enough to have a Master and to follow him in everything? This question pleased the Master, and therefore he sang the following song with the content how to think about the Master.
Master, disciple, instruction,
These three are one, children.
Diligence and bravery and faith,
These three are one, children.
Wisdom, compassion, absoluteness,
These three are one, children,
These always know the direction.
A perfect wise master
Is a master who knows the way,
Who lights up the deep darkness.
Untiring is the faith,
Who knows the true narrow way,
Who leads you to happiness of life.
The realisation of the powers
Knows the narrow path to heaven,
Realisation frees you
From infatuation and separation.
And the Master's teaching
According to the traditions
Is the true path to light,
Revealing Buddha's body.
The three treasures are,
That protect us on the path,
There is infallible truth
Guiding you along the path,
So at last the disciple reaches
The realm of great delight!
He dwells in a state
Free from brooding and disturbance,
In the joyous realm
Of inward self-knowledge
And deliverance from sin,
On the firm foundation
Of sure and true wisdom.
In the solitude of the valley,
Where no men dwell.
In halls of joyful songs
Of the educated like thunder,
Rain falls from every leaf
And the flower of pity blossoms
And the fruit of pure thought
Has ripened in the mind
And the works of enlightenment
Now pervade all things.
When Master Milan had sung this, the novices wanted to invite him to their home, Saint Milan, since the tranquillity of your spirit is indestructible, please come to our village and accept the offering of the laity and proclaim the holy teaching to all creatures. - But Master Milan said, It is my meditation in solitude that does good to all men, and the power of a hermit is based on his remaining in the hermitage. And so Master Milan sang this song to his novices:
We, returning our Master's
Grace, we have gathered together.
May the Master bless us
With the maturing of our hearts
And perfect liberation.
Now, you worthy disciples
Of my instructions, sitting here,
I sing to you a song of teaching
Full of sacred meaning:
He who has ears to hear, let him hear!
Look at the white leopard
On the snowy peaks,
Ruler of the white wasteland,
It has nothing more to fear.
Ruling in the snowy climes,
That is its power and strength.
And the royal eagle
On the crimson rock,
Wings stretching to the sky,
It does not fear the deep pit,
But strives to reach the heights of heaven,
That is its power and strength.
Down in the waters of the sea
Quickly the little fish moves there,
It is not afraid to drown,
That is its power and strength.
In the branches of the mountain tree
Nimbly the monkeys move,
Big monkeys, little monkeys
Are not afraid to fall,
Exuberant is the species,
That is their power and strength.
In the foliage of the forest glade
The striped tiger creeps,
It fears no creature.
It is proud and supple,
That is its power and strength.
Here in this tiger's den
Master Milan practices the teaching.
That praying escapes him,
Master Milan does not fear.
He has been lonely for a long time,
That is his power and strength.
To become like the mandala,
That regulates the spheres
And purifies the elements,
Without fear of deceit and error,
Fidelity to the inner core,
That is his power and strength.
He who makes a habit of practising
With the veins and the breath,
To him every restraint means,
Every hesitation is not a mistake,
Not an error in teaching,
They are but the protesting
Of his wandering thoughts.
When one first learns the power
Of the exercise of one worthy to know,
One native's exercise,
The thoughts are different
Not from worldliness of mind,
But from error of concept.
When one sees the possibilities,
Sees the good, sees the evil,
We are not mistaken in our practice,
But discern wisely.
Hermits who understand
To remain faithful in the exercise
Are the tiny appetites
For the things of this earth,
Nothing new they desire,
But the return of old desires.
That on the path of teaching
I'd rather stay all alone,
Is not hypocrisy and folly,
But a longing for simplicity.
These songs of Master Milan
Are not the folly of a fool,
To scatter the people,
They are profound exhortations
For the good of the novices.
When Master Milan had sung this song, the novices said to him, All this is very beautiful, O Master Milan, but even if you live in this hermitage, you must have built yourself a strong castle of contemplation against the threats. - And Master Milan said, From the castle of contemplation I sing you the following song:
I bow before the Father,
To the pure gem,
May he bless you, children,
With the riches of his help.
So I pray the Father
That he may give you Wisdom
In the fortress of your body.
When I was tormented by fears,
I built a castle within.
This castle of the absolute
Took from me all fears.
When I was cold, I made myself clothes,
Inner warmth was the clothing,
I lost my fear of the frost.
When I was afraid of poverty
I sought great riches.
Riches were the jewels
Of his diamond doctrine,
I lost my fear of poverty.
When I was afraid of hunger,
I sought good food.
And my acceptance
Of the pure Absolute,
That was food for my soul.
I lost my fear of hunger.
Loneliness was my melancholy
And I sought a friend.
And the absolute emptiness
Became my intimate friend
And melancholy fled from me.
Out of the fear of going astray
I sought the path of truth.
The All-One, my truth,
Took away the fear of going astray.
And so I am richly endowed,
What one can wish for, that I have,
And I'm happy where I live,
Here in this tiger's den,
If you tremble at the loud roar
Of a tigress, you'd stay
Rather lonely in the cave.
But the playing of her cubs
Cheers the monk's spirit,
Gives thoughts of enlightenment.
When you hear a monkey's mother scream,
It stays in your mind
And you feel the sorrow alone.
But the chatter of their young
Makes the hermit laugh
And one is elated.
Sad is the song of the cuckoo
And one is brought to silence.
But the sparrows' noise exhilarates
Their friend, the hermit.
Happy is a man of faith
Who lives alone and lonely
Without a single companion,
Yet he can live happily.
May Master Milan's songs,
The rejoicing of his songs
Alleviate all human suffering!
Now the novices decided to leave the world and to live isolated and alone in piety. And they reached the limit of perfection. Master Milan's personal patron goddess, however, commanded him to turn his gaze to Calcutta in India and to further develop his teachings there.
CHANT II
MASTER MILAN'S TREASURE OF SONG
The Brahmins who do not know the truth,
Do not know the truth at all, talk senselessly
Of the Veda revelation.
They prepare themselves with earth
And with water and with grasses
Prepare for the vain act of sacrifice,
Which they then perform senselessly.
They burn their eyes
With the smoke of the sacrificial fire.
Dressed in lordly attire,
They think themselves wise
Wit their Brahmin teachings. Senselessly
They with their vanities
Want to enslave this world.
But they do not know that faith
Is the same as unbelief.
They smear themselves with ashes
Their bodies. Their hair
They wear matted and dirty
On their heads. In the house
They light the lamps. Sitting
In the corners of their house,
Ringing senselessly with bells.
With their posture prescribed
They fix their eyes staring
At something, whispering
In people's ears and cheat,
Widows they teach and nuns,
Nuns with scornful heads
Consecrate the bald nuns,
Take money from widows.
But the way is only mocked
By the monks' bad appearance,
Long uncut nails.
Dirty are the old clothes
Or naked the monks go,
Their beards and hair unkempt.
Thus the monks enslave themselves
With the teaching of liberation.
If one is liberated through nakedness,
The dogs must be free
And the naked jackals.
If baldness makes you perfect,
Smooth girl's hips
Must be the pinnacle of perfection!
To have a long tail
Is a sign of liberation?
Then the peacocks are also liberated
And the cattle in the meadows.
Is it the height of wisdom,
To eat what you find,
Then elephants are wise.
No, for these lazy monks
There is no true freedom.
So teach Master Milan.
Who deprive themselves of the truth
Of life's true happiness,
Only torture their own bodies.
And then there are the novices
In the old school. These
Want to renounce the world completely,
To become monks in the world.
Some are seen sitting, reading
In the scriptures, some wither,
Concentrated on thought.
And they take refuge
To the Great Chariot. This
Is the teaching, say those,
Who interpret the scriptures correctly.
Other monks meditate
On mandalas and circles.
Others strive to reach the fourth
Stage of the Blisses
To define quite precisely.
But with such investigation
They fall off the path.
Some would like to see it
As a universe.
And they speak of the path
As the nature of emptiness.
But all disagree.
But he who without an inborn genius
Seeks nirvana,
He can by no means attain
Pure absolute truth.
He who occupies himself with other things,
Cannot attain liberation.
If one remains meditating at all times,
Can one attain freedom?
What is the use of the lamps?
What is the use of the offerings?
What can one achieve by trusting
In the mantras?
What good is austere self-torture?
What good are pilgrimages?
Can one achieve liberation
By bathing in the water?
Such bondages
Give up, renounce delusion!
There is nothing else but knowledge,
Knowledge of the secret that,
Something other than that
Science cannot know.
That is what is read,
That is to be meditated upon.
That alone is discussed
In treatise and legend.
There is no philosopher
Who has not only that as his aim.
That can only be glimpsed
At the feet of the master.
For as soon as the word of the master
Penetrates the heart of the pupil,
It seems to the disciple as if
Treasures are in his hands.
But this earth is enslaved
By deceit, says Master Milan.
And the fool does not realise the true
Divine nature of truth.
Without silent meditation,
Without austere renunciation of the world,
Can one stay in the house
With his wife together.
Is this then perfect knowledge,
If one does not attain freedom
While enjoying lust?
So Master Milan teaches you.
It's obviously the truth,
Why meditate always?
If the truth is hidden,
Only the eclipses are counted.
Master Milan says, In truth
The nature of the native
Exists, not existing.
Rather, through the same being,
That gave us birth,
That keeps us alive
And that lets us die once.
Through the same only
We attain the bliss of the soul.
But though Master Milan
Speaks these wise words,
The world cannot understand him,
This vain world of fools.
Does the one being exist
Except your meditating,
Then what is the point of meditating?
Is the being ineffable,
Then why all the disputes?
Alas, this earth is enslaved
By the vain appearances of things
And no man can ever comprehend
The nature of the Absolute.
All mantras, all tantras,
All long meditation,
Concentrating on thoughts,
Is but self-deception of fools.
Through all your contemplation
You do not impure the thought,
The thought that is pure.
But dwell within
In the bliss of the soul
And lift up the torment and self-torment.
Eat and drink, enjoy yourself sensually,
Fill the mandala with sacrifices,
So one day you'll win the hereafter.
Step on the head of the foolish,
Step on the neck of the worldly,
Advance to the goal of faith!
Where the breath no longer wanders,
Where the spirit no longer wanders,
Where moon and sun no longer shine,
There, O man, lay thy thought,
Put thy mind to rest there.
This is what Master Milan teaches you.
Do not distinguish things,
But see them as one.
Make no distinction
Between all the families.
Let the whole universe
Be one in the beautiful state
Of great passion of love!
Here is not beginning, nor middle,
Here is not end, nor beginning,
Not samsara, not nirvana,
In the state of supreme happiness
There is neither I nor not-I.
Whatever you contemplate,
That is It, from the front, from behind
And in all dimensions.
Today still let your Master
Take away from thee the delusion!
Ask no other Master!
All activity of the senses
Ends in true insight,
Self-imagination is destroyed,
Friend, such is the native's
Native body, the native body,
That your Master desires.
Where thought stops,
Where the breaths stop,
There is bliss for the soul.
You should not seek anything else.
Now it is such a thing
With one's own experience.
But do not be mistaken and do
Not according your own opinion.
Do not call it pure existence,
Do not call it pure non-being,
Nor bliss of the soul,
So as not to limit It.
Your own thoughts
Know them well, O disciple,
Know them like water, which
There meets water.
How then could ever the foolish
By immersion ever gain liberation.
Ever gain liberation? Why should
You believe in such falsehood?
Trust in the word of the Master,
This is the advice of Master Milan.
The nature of the sky
Is originally great clarity.
To gaze at it all the time,
Makes the clear sky dim.
So the poor fool does not know
That in him the fault is founded.
The pride of the fool is guilty,
Who sees not the pure truth.
And therefore he also blasphemes
Like a demon all wise men.
How confused the whole world is
By the opinions of teachers
And the schools of philosophers!
No one is aware of his own
Sacred nature of the soul.
They do not see the foundations,
Not the foundation of the spirit,
For they themselves cover that
Which is native with error.
But where thought rises,
Where thought dissolves,
There you shall dwell, dear one.
He who thinks about truth
Without foundation of truth,
To him is a master's instruction.
Master Milan says, You fool,
The diversity of existence
Is an expression of thoughts.
No one can tell you your own
Sacred nature,
A Master's instruction
Can alone reveal it.
Nowhere an atom of evil
Exists in thy soul.
Unbelief and faith
Will still be purified
And at last cease altogether.
He who has purified his thinking,
Can receive the quality of the Master
Only in the heart.
Because he knows this, then Master
Milan can sing this little song,
Don't worry about all the mantras,
Don't worry about all the Tantras.
For men are bound
By their own karma, but
Through freedom from karma
The spirit of man is liberated.
The liberation of his mind
Carries him safely into Nirvana.
Spirit is the seed of everything.
And Samsara and Nirvana
Both come from the spirit.
Give this your reverence,
Which is like a precious stone,
Who fulfils all your desires
And bestows upon thee all things,
Which only thy desire would have.
But thought bound,
Brings man only bondage.
But freed, it brings freedom.
Of this there can be no doubt.
What binds the vain fool,
That very quickly frees the wise.
But bound men fall
Staggering in every direction.
But freed, the spirit of man
Then rests blissfully in itself.
Think of the camel, my disciple,
It's the same with the camel.
Concentrate on yourself,
Hold on to the breaths,
Don't squint at your nose,
Stick to the native,
Let go of the fetters of existence.
Bring the restless waves
Of thy breath in thought
Still together and know
The nature of the native,
Then you will become still
Of your own accord.
When the spirit first goes to rest
And destroys the course of life,
Then the taste will flow
Of your native being
And there will be no more outcast
And no more Brahmins.
Here is Ganga, Mother Ganga,
Here is the holy Benares,
Here Calcutta, our mother,
Here is fiery Bengal,
Here is the moon and here is the sun.
I have seen many altars
And seen places of pilgrimage
On life's wanderings,
But never have I seen such a pious
Holy altar as my own
Body for sacrifice.
Lotus flowers in clusters,
Lotus leaves, lotus blossoms,
Petals, perfume and tendrils,
Let discernment depart,
Fool, do not torment yourself with folly!
Desire objects are the mantras,
Desire objects the disputes,
And as objects of desire
They are doomed to destruction.
Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, all of them
Return to their source.
Know thou the peculiarities
Of the taste of the native.
The taste of the native
Do not divert from its parts.
The taste of the native
Is the absence of knowledge.
You who write commentaries
Do not know how to cleanse
This world from its filth.
Listen to me, my dear student,
Taste is free from error,
Is a state of supreme happiness,
Is the source of all being.
Taste, at last, is final,
What remains of error,
Of the creations of delusion,
Where intellect is destroyed
And where thinking perishes
And where egoism dies.
So why do you want to complain there,
With contemplation still complain?
For a thing appears on earth,
Then falls to destruction.
If it has no true existence,
It cannot appear again.
Free from manifestation,
Free from destruction, what then
Is it, what has come into being?
Master Milan has spoken!
Look and listen, feel, eat,
Smell, walk, sit and stand,
Vanity of vanities
Give up thou and the disputes.
Cease also from thoughts
And be not moved away
From the uniqueness of the One.
Who are not willing to drink
The ambrosia of the Master,
Will die in the desert
And die of thirst from disputes.
Let the thoughts go
And rational thought,
Be a child of seven years!
Be devoted to your master
And the master's instruction
And you see the native.
This has no names,
No qualities. So I say,
That it cannot be known
By discussion of words.
How then can the highest divinity
Literally ever be described?
We are like the young girls,
Speechless in the experience
Of our sweet bliss of the soul!
Empty of all the concepts
Of existence or non-existence,
The world is absorbed there.
When the spirit remains motionless,
You are freed from the torment of self
And the torments of this existence.
But as long as the Highest One
Thou dost not know within thyself,
How then could you attain
This incomparably beautiful
Form of forms as the highest?
Where error ceases, I say,
See thyself in thy truth.
Think not of the atoms,
Think not of the molecules.
Unceasingly the pure
Being flows forth the highest joy.
Such error is madness,
Says the Master Milan to his friend.
Learn to know the pure
And perfect state of joy!
He is there in his house,
She, however, goes out of the house,
Seeks him out of his house.
She sees her husband,
She asks the neighbours.
Master Milan says: O foolish woman,
Know thyself in true humility!
This has nothing to do with devotion
And contemplation, concentration
And the string of pearls of mantras.
If the Master were to speak,
Would you know everything?
Without ever knowing everything,
Would one attain freedom?
So these fools talk,
Wander blindly on earth,
Greedily gathering experience.
But their own native
Do not know the blind fools,
But gather nothing but evil.
One enjoys the world of the senses
Without sinful stain.
One picks white lotus blossoms,
Without touching water.
So also becomes the pious master,
Who has reached the root,
Is not enslaved by his senses,
But he enjoys the pleasures of the senses.
Yes, the deity can be honoured
And in a trance one can behold
A man-made deity!
But subject to death -
What can deliver us from death?
All that cannot destroy
This becoming and passing away.
Without faithful trust
One cannot escape death.
Direct your eyes straight
To the tip of your nose,
Regulate your breaths,
Empty your minds!
So the teachers teach us.
When the disciple no longer breathes
And dead is the disciple,
What then, dear people?
Is one in the sense-sphere,
Then desire pours out.
What can treat the problem?
If one is something in truth,
You can't treat it
Like a doctor treats
The body from the outside.
All the scholars write
In treatises and disputes.
But the inner Buddha,
People do not recognise him.
But becoming and passing away
Cannot be destroyed in this way.
But shamelessly they say:
We are the learned people!
He who among living beings
Would never have grown old
Would be free from death and old age.
But that is impossible.
But at the word of the Master
Your mind will be enlightened.
Is there any other treasure on earth,
Other treasure than enlightenment?
He who does not use the senses
And remains in pure emptiness,
Is a bird that flies up
From the ship that passes by,
And then turns back and settles
On that ship again.
But let yourself no longer be caught
By the attachment to the senses,
This is what Master Milan tells you.
Think of the fish, the butterfly,
Elephants, bees, panthers...
Whatever emanates from the mind,
Nature has taken it from the being
From which it springs.
Waves are like water, aren't they?
The nature of water waves
Is the same as the space
The flowing nature of water.
Who speaks here? And who has ears?
What will I entrust to you?
Like the dust in a tunnel
Down in dusty earth,
So goes that which in the heart
Inside comes to rest.
If the water penetrates the water,
The water also tastes like water.
So sin or virtue
Are seen as one,
There is no distinction.
Do not cling to the concepts
Pure absolute emptiness,
But consider every thing
One like all other things.
Even the shell of a small
Sesame seed can hurt you
Like the sharp-sharpened arrows.
If one thing is one way,
Another thing is another.
Your deeds are like stones
That grant thy every wish.
Strange how the learned
By their own error suffer
Heavy sorrow in the soul!
Only in true self-experience
Rests the bliss of the soul.
In bliss all forms
With the equality of space
Endowed and natural
Form the nature of equal likeness,
Make the spirits immobile.
If the spirit is no longer of the spirit,
The native shines forth.
Here and there in the houses
Loudly this matter is discussed,
But the foundation of joy
Remains unknown to the people there.
This world is enslaved by thoughts,
All enslaved, says Master Milan.
No one has known the pure
Non-thought, child's folly.
Though in many pious scriptures
A master is revealed,
This Lord and Master will show himself
According to your desire.
This Lord is you yourself,
And men are the enemies,
So think these people
Disputing in the houses.
If a man feeds only on one thing,
He devours all the rest.
But she goes out of the house
And looks for her master outside.
But he is not seen coming,
Does not know where he is
Or where he walks,
Without sign and without change
One recognises the Lord, the Highest.
Unless you give up coming,
If you do not give up going,
Then how can you attain
This glory of Heaven?
The thought is a pure one,
When it is wholly conformed to the forehead.
Think of no differences
Within thyself, within thy heart.
Is there no distinction
Between speech, mind and body,
Then shine on that which is native.
How can anything else arise there,
Where the housewife and the wife
Wholly devours the spouse?
Incomparable are the works
Of this pupil of wisdom.
She devours the spouse,
The native appears.
There are no passions
Nor are there any passions.
Sitting still with her own,
All her thoughts are gone,
So I saw the woman, the wise.
And one eats and drinks and thinks too,
Whatever comes to any man's mind.
It is beyond the mind,
Unimaginable, this wonder
Of a student of wisdom.
Here the moon and the sun are
The difference in the sky.
Heaven, underworld and earth
Are formed in the woman.
Know this woman who is wise,
Who completes the thought,
Mother of the native.
Alas, the whole world must endure
Great torment from words!
No one can do without words.
But when one is free of words,
Only then can you understand the word.
As outside, so also inside,
Certainly on the highest level,
Are the bodiless forms
Hidden in the body,
He who knows this finds freedom.
Once I used to say
From the textbook these words:
Now to success, O Master!
But I drank the elixir
And forgot the word of the book.
There is only one word
That I now know spiritually
And I know not its name.
Can he who wins joy
In the arms of embrace
Who does not know that all beings
With him are the same being?
He is like a deer full of thirst,
Who hurries to the spring of water
And sees nothing but reflections,
He will die of thirst.
How can he the fountain of God
In truth ever reach?
Substances, elements, senses,
The organs of our senses
Are the water of this life.
In the song of the Master Milan
No truth is concealed.
So, scholars, please
Be patient with Milan.
For there is no hesitation here.
What I have heard from the mouth
Of my own Master,
Why should I speak of it
In a mysterious way?
That blessed delight
Between the jewel of the god
And the soul's lotus flower -
Who does not rejoice with joy?
Whose hopes on earth
Is not fulfilled by this joy?
This moment can be joy
Of the means, or both,
Happiness of means and wisdom,
And by grace of their Master
And their own merits
Many a man has known it.
It is deep and wide, the joy,
It is not man's self
Nor is it the other things.
Know this self-experience,
This native within
In the highest moment!
As the moon illuminates the darkness,
So supreme joy
Momentarily gives the defilement.
When the sun of your suffering
Sinks on the horizon,
Then rises the highest joy,
Lord of the myriad stars.
She creates with creative powers
And through her the circle of the world
Comes into being,
This mandala of the cosmos.
See thoughts as thoughts,
Fool, and forsake error.
You attain purgation
In the bliss of the soul,
Here lies the perfect being.
Not to doubt, not to hesitate,
You free the elephant,
That which is your own spirit.
May he drink the river's water
And stay on the bank,
As he pleases, my pupil.
Held in the trunk,
In the elephant's trunk,
That now represents our senses,
We seem utterly lifeless.
But the master will slip away,
Riding on like a rider.
As in heaven Nirvana
So on earth Samsara.
There is no distinction,
I recognise it as purity.
Do not sit alone at home,
Do not walk in the forest,
But know your spirit,
Wherever you are, my disciple.
One dwells fully in enlightenment,
What then is Samsara,
What then is Nirvana?
Dear one, learn this truth,
That enlightenment does not dwell
In the dark forest,
Make no evasion, but
Become free in your own being
Of an unsullied thought!
That is I and that another,
So say vain fools.
Free yourself from this fetter,
That surrounds thee with chains,
And thy self shall find freedom.
Thou commit'st no error,
Concerning the self, the other.
All is the one Buddha.
Here is that immaculate
Final stage of enlightenment,
Where thought is purified.
O, the beautiful tree of thought,
Unknown to it is duality,
Spreading all its branches
Through all the universe,
It bears blossoms, fruit of compassion,
And his name is the servant
Out of compassion to the other.
This beautiful tree of emptiness
Is laden rich with blossoms,
With acts of compassion of all kinds
And with fruits also for others,
Fruits that appear of their own accord,
For the bliss of the soul
Does not actually think of others.
And so the beautiful tree
Of pure emptiness also lacks compassion,
Without blossoms, without leaves,
And whoever thinks there are
Blossoms, foliage, he falls down,
For there are no branches there.
Both trees from one seed
Are sprung, therefore there is
One fruit only. He who wisely
As indistinguishable sees
These trees, finds freedom,
Is freed from Samsara,
Will also be freed from Nirvana.
When a man in need approaches
And disappointed then goes away again,
It is better for him to leave
That house to the left
That bowl of food
That was thrown at him.
Not to help other people
And to give nothing to the poor,
Are the fruits of Samsara.
It is better to give up
The idea of the ego of man.
He who clings to pure emptiness,
Who cares not for compassion,
He does not attain perfection.
But he who practices mercy,
But does not hold to emptiness,
He does not attain liberation
From the torments of this existence.
Only he who practices both, emptiness
And the heartfelt mercy,
He no longer remains in Samsara,
He rises above Nirvana.
PART II
THE BATTLE OF KOSOVO
DEDICATION
At the funeral of his humble grandmother
I saw the darling of my heart, Milan.
I emptied a bottle of dark red wine
And sang all night the song of my Love.
I
Sultan Murad fell on the plains of Kosovo!
And as he fell, he wrote these few short words,
Sent them to the castle by the white Kruschevats,
To rest on Lazarus' knees in his fair city:
Lazarus! Tsar! Lord of all Serbs,
What never was, never can be:
Only One Country, but Two Lords,
A single people taxed twice;
We cannot both rule here together,
Therefore send me every tax and every key,
Golden keys that open all cities,
All taxes for these seven years,
And if you do not send these things at once,
Bring your armies to the plain of Kosovo.
And we will divide the land with our swords. -
When these words came to Lazarus' eyes,
He saw them and wept cruel tears.
II
Yes, from Jerusalem, O from this holy place,
A great grey bird, a tamed hawk flew!
And in his beak he held a gentle swallow.
But wait! It is no hawk, this grey bird,
It is a saint, Saint Elias:
And he carries no gentle swallow,
But a letter from Our Lady.
He brings it to the Czar in Kosovo
And lays it on his trembling knees.
And so the letter itself speaks to the Tsar:
Lazarus! Lazarus! Tsar of the nobility,
What kingdom art thou most longing for?
Will you choose a heavenly crown today?
Or wilt thou choose an earthly crown?
If you choose earth, then saddle horses,
Tighten thy girths, put on thy bit.
Your swords and a dawn attack
Against the Turks: Your enemy will be destroyed.
But if thou dost choose heaven, then build a church.
O, not of stone, but of silk and velvet.
Gather thy troops, and take the bread and the wine,
For all shall perish, they shall perish utterly,
And thou, O Tsar, shalt perish with them. -
And when the Tsar had heard these sacred words,
He meditated, pondering every thought:
O dear God, what shall I do and how?
Shall I choose the earth? Shall I choose
Heaven? And if I choose the kingdom,
If I choose an earthly kingdom,
Earthly kingdoms are such fleeting things.
A heavenly kingdom that rages in darkness endures forever. -
And Lazarus chose heaven, not earth,
And there a church was built in Kosovo.
O, not of stone, but of silk and velvet.
And there he summoned the patriarchs of Serbia,
Summoned there the high-souled twelve high runners:
And he gathered his troops, had them all with him.
He took with him the saving bread and the precious wine.
As soon as Lazarus had given
His orders, it went over the plain.
From Kosovo come all the Turks.
III
The Serbian Tsar will celebrate his Slava
Here in Krushevats, a well-protected fortress,
All the high nobility and all
The lesser lords who sit around the table.
All will now honour his holy patron saint.
To his right he places the old Yug Bogdan,
And beside him the nine brave Yugovichi,
To his left, Vuk Brankovich will sit,
And then the other lords according to their rank,
Opposite Lazarusus is Captain Milosh,
And next to him are these two noble knights:
The first: Ivan Kosanchich,
And the second: Lord Milan Toplitsa.
Now the tsar lifts up the golden chalice,
Lazarus therefore questions all his lords:
To whom, I pray you, shall this toast be made?
If I shall toast to old age,
To old Yug Bogdan then,
If I must honour eminence, to Brankovich;
If I should trust to emotions,
Then to the nine brave Yugovichi,
Sons of old Yug Bogdan, brothers of my queen;
If I must bow to beauty, to Ivan Kosanchich;
When I choose greatness, to the great Milan Toplitsa;
But if heroic courage makes me choose,
I will drink to the noble Captain Milosh.
Yes! to Milosh, to no one else,
I drink only to the health of Milosh Obilich.
Hail, cousin! Friend of mine and traitor!
First my friend, but finally my traitor.
Tomorrow you will betray me
In the territory of Kosovo,
Fleeing to the Turkish Sultan Murad!
So, dear Milos, drink up
And keep the golden chalice to remember Lazarus. -
Then on agile legs came Milosh Obilich
And before the dark earth he bows and says:
My thanks to thee, O glorious Lazarus.
I thank thee for this fine toast and for thy beautiful gift,
But I cannot thank thee for thy words.
Let me die if I lie to thee!
I have never been unfaithful to my Czar,
Never have I been, never will I be.
And I have sworn to die for you in Kosovo,
For you and for the Christian faith.
But treason, Lazarus, now sits beside you,
The traitor sipping his wine right up your sleeve.
It's Brankovich, Vuk Brankovich, I say!
And when on Vitus day tomorrow morning
We make our morning assault on the field of blackbirds.
We'll see right there in fucking Kosovo
Who is loyal to you and who is not!
I swear to you, by God Almighty,
That at dawn I will go to Kosovo
And slaughter the Turkish Sultan like a pig,
I'll put my foot on his throat.
And then, if God and Fortune help me, I will return
To Brankovich and tie him to my lance,
Tie him like wool around a staff.
I'll drag him back to Kosovo like this!
IV
And Milosh says to Ivan Kosanchich:
My brother, have you seen the Turkish army?
Is it huge? And do we dare to attack them?
Can we conquer Murad here in Kosovo? -
And Ivan Kosanchich answers him thus:
My noble friend, O Milosh Obilich!
I have spied on the Turkish army,
And I tell you it is great and strong.
If all the Serbs were turned into grains of salt.
We couldn't even salt their wretched meals!
For fifteen days I walked among those hoards
And found there no beginning and no end.
From Mount Mramor straight on to Suvi Javor,
From Javor, brother, on to Sazlija,
From Sazlija across the Chemer Bridge,
From Chemer Bridge on to the town of Zvechan,
From Zvechan, Milosh, to the edge of Chechan,
And from Chechan to the mountain tops,
Everywhere the Turks line up in battle dress:
The horse is beside the horse,
And the warriors are all assembled,
Their lances are like the trunks of forest trees,
Their banners are like endless clouds of sail,
And all their tents are like the drifting snow.
Ah! and if from heaven a heavy rain falls,
Then not a single drop would ever touch the earth
For all the Turks and horses that stand on it.
Turkish forces occupy the field before us.
It stretches to the Lab and Sitnitsa rivers.
Sultan Murad has fallen on the plain of Mazgit! -
Then Milosh looks to Kosanchich and asks:
My brother, next tell me where I can find
The tent of the mighty Sultan Murad,
For I have sworn to noble Lazarus
To slaughter this foreign tsar like a pig
And set my foot on his squealing throat. -
And Ivan Kosanchich answers thus:
O Milosh Obilich, I think you must be mad!
Where do you think the tent is pitched?
In the middle of the huge camp, of course!
And even if you had the wings of a hawk
And flew down from the clear blue sky,
Your wings would never let you fly away alive again! -
So then Milosh begs Ivan to promise:
O Ivan Kosanchich, my dear brother,
Not in blood, but as much as a brother,
Swear to me not to tell the Czar,
What you have just seen and said to me.
Lazarus would suffer agony because of it,
The army under him would be terrified.
We must both say this instead:
Although the Turkish army is not small,
We can easily fight with them
And defeat them. That is what we have seen:
Not an army of knights and warriors,
But of weary pilgrims, old and crippled peasants,
Artisans and scrawny youths,
Who have not yet tasted blood.
And come to Kosovo only to see the world
Or to earn a crust of bread, a goblet of wine.
And if there is a real Turkish army,
It's sick with the plague and lost its way,
Far from here they shit on the earth
Fearing us and even all our horses,
Suffer disease, ruined by pestilence and fever,
By spreading deadly hoof and mouth diseases,
To catch cattle and sheep.
V
In Maydan, where they win the purest silver,
Musich Steven drinks the dark red wine,
Brought to him by his handmaid Vaistina
To a table in his stately castle.
When he has quenched his thirst, he says:
Vaistina, my dear friend and servant,
Drink and eat while I lie down to rest,
And then go for a walk in front of our stately castle:
Gaze at the clear, transparent sky
And tell me: is the bright moon in the west?
Does the morning star rise in the east?
Has the hour come when we shall travel
On the plain of Kosovo
And join with the noble Czar?
My child, you will remember the death oath
Lazarus admonished us thus:
Whoever is a Serb, with Serbian blood,
Whoever shares with me this heritage,
And he comes not to fight in Kosovo,
May he never have the offspring
His heart desires it, neither son nor daughter;
Nothing decent will grow under his hand,
Neither purple grapes nor sound wheat;
He shall rust like dripping iron,
Till his name be extinguished! -
Then Musich Steven rests on soft pillows,
While Vaistina, his friend and faithful servant,
Eats her meal, drinks her share of wine
And walks before the stately castle.
She looks up at the clear, transparent sky
And sees the moon bright and in the west;
The morning star rises in the east.
With it the hour has come for them to set out
To the plain of Kosovo
And join forces with the noble tsar.
Now Vaistina takes horses from the stable,
War horses, one for each of them,
And saddles them, arranges them beautifully.
Then she carries out a noble silken banner,
All embroidered with twelve golden crosses
And a brilliant icon of Saint John,
Patron saint of Musich Steven.
She lays it down in front of the castle courtyard
And climbs the stairs to wake her master.
Now, as Vaistina climbs the stairs,
Musich Steven's wife stops her there,
Embraces her. Pleadingly she says:
O servant Vaistina, in the name of Jesus,
By God Almighty and Saint John,
Until now you have been my faithful friend.
If you are still my sister, I beg you:
Do not awaken your sleeping master now.
Pity me; I had a bad dream,
I dreamed I saw a flock of doves in flight
With two grey hawks flying before them,
Flying right in front of this castle,
They flew to Kosovo and landed there
In Sultan Murad's cruel, vast camp;
But I never saw them rise again.
That, my sister, is a prophecy:
I fear that you will all die. -
Then the servant Vaistina speaks thus:
Dear sister, venerated wife of Steven!
I cannot, my sister, be unfaithful
To the lord of this noble castle;
Thou art not bound, as he and I are bound
By Lazarus' bitter admonition:
I tell thee, this is what he said:
Whoever is a Serb, with Serbian blood,
Whoever shares with me this heritage,
And he comes not to fight in Kosovo,
May he never have the descendants
His heart desires it, neither son nor daughter;
Nothing decent will grow under his hand,
Neither purple grapes nor sound wheat;
He shall rust like dripping iron,
Till his name be extinguished!
Therefore, sister, I cannot be unfaithful
To the lord of this noble castle. -
Then Vaistina goes upstairs and awakens her lord
With these words: the time has now come. -
And Musich Steven rises on strong legs
And washes himself slowly, puts on stately clothes,
He belts around his waist a well-forged sword,
Pours himself a glass of dark red wine
And drinks to his holy patron saint,
And then to a swift and propitious voyage,
And finally to the saving cross of Jesus,
All this in his castle at his banquet table,
Where Steven will eat and drink no more.
Then they go before the stately castle,
Mount their ready warhorses auburn
And unfurl the cross-embroidered banner.
Drums and trumpets break the morning silence.
Let's go to battle in the name of God!
When the radiant dawn has cast its light on them
Over Kosovo, that flat and graceful plain,
Suddenly a beautiful maiden appears.
She carries in her hands two empty golden chalices,
Under her arm she has a noble helmet,
Made of wrapped white silk
With intertwined feathers,
Which at their ends are wrought in silver
And sewn with precious threads of yellow gold,
And all embroidered on the top with pearls.
Then Musich Steven speaks to her thus:
May Almighty God bless thee and be with thee.
But where did you find this noble helmet?
Were you yourself on the battlefield?
Give it to me, my dear, for a moment,
For I shall know at once which hero wore it.
I promise you on my journey
That I will never harm or betray you. -
The lovely maiden answered him and said:
Greetings to you, warrior of the Tsar!
I was not on the battlefield myself,
But my mother woke me early to fetch water.
And when I got there, what a flood I saw!
Of muddy waters, horses, dying heroes,
Turkish caps, fezzes, bloody turbans,
And the helmets of noble Serbs,
Made of wrapped white silk with interwoven feathers.
I saw this helmet floating near the shore
And went out a little way to reach it there.
I have a slightly younger brother at home,
And I wanted him to have it as a present.
Besides, I'm young myself, I like the feathers on it. -
She hands the helmet to the mounted jumper.
As soon as Steven holds it in his hands,
He recognises it and begins to cry,
Tears streaming down his stern and noble face.
He hits the side so hard that it breaks
The golden cufflink that binds his right sleeve,
And tears the velvet of his trouser leg.
May God in heaven help me and protect me!
Now the curse of Lazarus falls surely upon me! -
And he gives the helmet back to the girl
And reaches into his pocket with his hand
And gives her three golden ducats and says:
Take them, my dear, dear, dear maiden of Kosovo,
For I am now going into battle,
To fight the Turks in the Holy Name of Jesus.
If God allows me to return alive,
I will have for you a far better gift.
But if I, my sister, should die in battle,
Remember me by these three golden ducats. -
Then they drove their horses into battle
Beyond the flooded muddy river Sitnitsa
And rode into the camp of Sultan Murad.
Musich Steven fought and killed three pashas,
But when he met the fourth, that warrior struck him.
And there he died beside his servant Vaistina.
And with his army of twelve thousand souls.
The great Tsar Lazarus also died that day,
And with him died a good and ancient kingdom,
With him died the best kingdom of this earth.
VI
Now, where in Krushevats the Tsar is encamped
And takes his supper on the eve of battle,
Militsa, his queen, thus beseeches him:
O Lazarus, Golden Crown of Serbia,
You ride tomorrow to Kosovo
And take your servants and knights with you,
You'll leave me no one in the castle, your majesty,
Who could ride out to the field with a letter
From Kosovo and bring back an answer.
You take my nine dear brothers with you,
All the Yugovichi go with you.
I beg you, leave this one behind,
Only one may stay behind,
Leave for me only one brother,
By whom I can swear. -
And so Lazarus speaks to her and says:
Dear Lady Militsa, my dear Tsarina,
Which brother would you have for yourself,
To walk with thee in this white castle tower? -
And she saith, Give me Boshko Jugovich! -
And he speaks, noble prince of all Serbs:
Dear Lady Militsa, my dear Tsarina,
Tomorrow, when the white day is brightly lit,
When the day dawns, the sun shines in the east,
And when the portals of the city are open,
Go and stand beside those city gates,
For there will stand the army in their ranks
And all the horsemen in their battlefields.
Boshko Jugovich will lead them all
And carry the cross-embroidered banner aloft.
Give him all my blessing and say this,
That he shall give the flag to someone else
And stay with thee in this white castle tower. -
As dawn breaks early in the morning,
And the portals of the city are opened,
She goes forth, Lazarus' queen,
And stands beside the city gate,
Where the whole army passes in ranks
Out before the warriors with their lances.
There comes her brother, Boshko Jugovich,
Riding in his noble golden armour
On his gold-belted war stallion,
Holding aloft the cross-stitched banner,
That wraps him, my brothers, to the waist.
On the staff is a golden apple,
And on the apple are golden crosses.
From it hang several golden tassels.
It dangled in the wind around his shoulders.
Now the tsarina Militsa goes to him
And takes the bridle of his horse in her hand,
She puts her arms around her brother's neck,
And so she speaks softly to him and says:
O my brother, Boshko Jugovich,
Lazarus has given you to me
And tells you not to go to Kosovo;
He sends his blessing upon thee, saying:
Give your flag to anyone you like.
And abide with me in Krushevats with white walls,
That I may have a brother here,
By whom I can swear. -
Boshko Jugovich then speaks thus:
Go back, my sister, to your castle tower.
It is not for me to go with you
Or to give away this banner I hold,
Even if the Czar would give me Krushevats;
What would all my comrades say of me?
Look at that coward Jugovich!
He who dares not go to Kosovo
And to shed his blood for the Holy Cross of Jesus
And so that the faith does not die on this plane. -
With that, he drives his horse through the gate.
And next rides Yug Bogdan, Boshko's father,
And behind him, seven Yugovichi;
One by one she stopped them and begged them,
But not one would look at her.
She waits in misery beside the portals,
Until her brother Voin passes by.
He leads Lazarus' horses close behind,
All of them with golden strings.
She stops his chestnut horse,
Holds it by the bridle,
And then she throws her arms around her brother.
Thus she speaks softly to him and says:
O Voin Yugovich, my dear brother,
Lazarus gives you to me as a gift!
He sends his blessing upon you and says:
Give someone else these noble horses.
And stay with me in Krushevats with the white walls,
That I may have a brother here,
By whom I can swear. -
So her brother Voin answers her and says:
Go back, my sister, to your castle tower.
For as a warrior I may not return,
Nor would I leave these horses of the Czar behind,
Even if I knew I would perish,
I would ride out onto the flat field of Kosovo,
To shed my blood for the Holy Cross of Jesus
And die with all my brothers for the faith. -
With that, he drives his horse through the gate.
When the dear Lady Militsa saw all this,
She falls down fainting on the cold hard stone
And lies unconscious, still as in death.
Glorious Lazarus, prince of all Serbs,
Comes by next, and when he sees his queen,
He weeps, and tears stream down his cheeks.
He looks around and turns to the left and to the right
And calls to his servant Goluban:
Goluban, my dear and faithful servant.
Get off your white horse at once
And take our Lady in your strong white arms
And carry her into the narrow tower.
I release you from your heavy oath before God,
Renounce the fight in Kosovo,
Stay with her in the castle tower. -
When Goluban has heard his master's words,
He wept, and tears streamed down his cheeks,
As ordered, he dismounts from his white horse
And lifts up the lady in his white arms
And carries her into the castle tower.
But still his heart torments him: he must go
And ride to the battle on the field of blackbirds.
He returns at once to his white horse,
He mounts and rides to reach Kosovo.
As in the East, the morning dawns bright,
Two black ravens fly to Krushevats
From Kosovo, that wide and flat plain,
And land on the narrow castle tower,
The castle tower of Lazarus the tsar.
The first bird caws, the second begins to speak:
Is this the tower of glorious Lazarus?
Or is there no one at home in this white castle? -
Only our Lady Militsa is there to listen,
And she alone goes out before the tower.
Thus she speaks and asks the two black birds:
Ravens! In the name of Almighty God,
Tell me whence you come on this bright morning.
Could it be that you come from Kosovo?
Have you seen two mighty armies there?
And did these armies engage in a furious battle?
Big black birds: which army won the battle? -
Then the ravens answered, both together:
In the name of God, Tsarina Militsa,
We come today from the plain of Kosovo,
And we have seen there two mighty armies;
These armies met in battle yesterday,
And both the Tsar and the Sultan were killed.
Among the Turks a few are left alive,
But even fewer among the Serbs still breathe,
And all of them have cruel, bleeding wounds. -
Just as the ravens speak these words,
The servant Milutin comes up:
His own right arm he carries in his left hand;
He bleeds from his seventeen grievous wounds,
He reins in his sweating, blood-soaked war-horse.
So the dear Lady Militsa questions him:
What is the matter with you, servant Milutin?
Hast thou forsaken Lazarus in the field? -
And the servant Milutin answers her:
Help me, my dear, down from the horse
And bathe with cold water all my wounds,
Quench my thirst with red, invigorating wine;
These evil wounds shall be the end of me. -
The mistress Militsa brings him gently down
And there bathes his wounds with cold water
And gives him dark red wine to quench his thirst.
So when she has attended to his needs,
She questions him again and asks softly:
What happened, Milutin, in Kosovo?
The noble Tsar and the old Yug Bogdan, are they dead?
The Yugovichi, nine of them, all dead?
Vuk Brankovich and the great lord Milosh, dead?
And Strahinya, the best of them all? -
The wounded servant answers her and says:
All remain, beloved, in the field,
Where the glorious Czar died bravely.
There are many broken lances there,
They belong both to the Turks and the noble Serbs.
But many others of us are broken, mistress,
As in the defence of Lazarus against the Turks
They fought for our glorious lord and master.
And old Yug Bogdan, mistress, lost his life
In the beginning, at dawn, in the attack
Along with his eight sons, the Yugovichi,
Where brother fought with brother to the end,
As long as he could strike and cut;
But Boshko Jugovich still remains there,
His cross-beautified banner waving high,
Where he chases Turks in frightened flocks
As a hunting falcon chases pigeons.
And Strahinya died, where the blood rose to his knees,
In the battles by the river Sitnitsa,
Where many dying Turks lay about.
But Milosh killed the Turkish Sultan Murad,
And he slaughtered many Turkish soldiers with him.
May Almighty God bless those who bore him!
He leaves immortal glory to all Serbs,
To be told forever in song and history,
As long as Kosovo and humanity endure.
But ask me nothing of Vuk Brankovich!
May she who gave birth to him be damned!
Cursed be his tribe and his posterity,
For he betrayed the Tsar in Kosovo
And led away twelve thousand men, mistress,
He led his knights away with him from Kosovo.
VII
Tsarina Militsa went out to walk
Before the castle by the white Krushevats,
And with her were her two daughters:
Vukosava and the pretty Mara.
Then Vladeta, the voivode, came to them,
Riding a war-horse by a bay,
Vladeta had made the horse sweat,
And it was bathed all over in white foam.
Tsarina Militsa spoke to him, saying:
In the name of God, good knight of the Tsar,
Why did you force your horse to sweat like that?
Are you not from Kosovo?
Hast thou seen the great Lazarus riding there?
Hast thou seen my lord and thy master? -
And Vladeta responded in his turn:
In the name of God, Tsarina Militsa,
I rode from the Field of Blackbirds,
But I'm afraid I didn't see the Tsar.
I saw his war-horse, pursued by many Turks,
And so I think our noble lord is dead. -
When Tsarina Militsa heard this news,
She wept, and tears streamed down her face.
And then she looked at Vladeta and asked:
Tell me more, good knight of the Tsar,
When you were on this wide and flat plain,
Did you see my father and my noble brothers there?
Did you see the Yugovichi and Yug Bogdan? -
And Vladeta answered her and said:
When I came from Kosovo and went over the plain,
I saw the Yugovichi, nine of them, your brothers,
And I saw your father, old Yug Bogdan, there:
They were in the midst of all the fighting,
And their arms were bloody free to their shoulders,
Their swords were clear to the hilt;
But how their arms grew weary and sank,
I fought with the Turks in the field! -
Again the wife of Lazarus spoke to him, saying:
Voivode, stay with me and wait!
Have you seen the husbands of my daughters?
Have you seen Vuk Brankovich and Milosh? -
And Vladeta, the voivode, answered:
I have gone through the whole of Kosovo
And I have seen what I have seen.
I saw Captain Milosh Obilich,
And he was standing on this flat field;
I saw him leaning on his fighting plant,
And saw that it was broken.
And the Turks pressed in upon him
Till now, I think, he must surely have died.
And did I even see Vuk Brankovich?
I haven't seen him. Let not the sun see him either!
For he has betrayed the tsar in this field,
The noble tsar, your lord and my lord.
VIII
Early one Sunday morning
The maiden of Kosovo awoke to bright sunshine
And rolled her sleeves over her snow-white elbows;
On her back she carries warm white bread,
And in her hands she carries two golden chalices,
One with water, one with dark red wine.
In search of the plain of Kosovo
She goes to the battlefield there,
Where noble Lazarus the tsar was slain,
And turns the warriors in her blood;
Should one still breathe, she bathes him with the water.
And offers him, as in the sacrament,
The dark red wine to drink, the bread to eat.
At last she comes to Pavle Orlovich,
The standard-bearer of his master, the Czar,
And finds him still alive, though torn and mutilated:
His right hand and left leg are cut off
And his fair breast is crushed and broken.
So she can see his lungs inside,
She examines his bloodstream
And bathes his wounds with clear and cold water;
She offers him, as in the sacrament,
The dark red wine to drink, the bread to eat.
So when she took care of his needs,
Pavle Orlovich revived and spoke:
Virgin of Kosovo, my most beautiful sister,
What misfortune brings you to this plain?
To turn the warriors in their blood?
Who can you look for here?
Have you lost a brother or nephew?
Have you perhaps lost an ageing father? -
And the maiden of Kosovo answers:
O my brother, O my unknown hero!
It is not for someone of my blood,
I seek not an ageing father,
Nor is it for a brother or nephew.
Remember, brave and unknown warrior,
When Lazarus gave communion to his army
With the help of thirty holy monks
Near the beautiful church of Samodrezha,
And it took them twenty days to do it?
The whole Serbian army took communion.
In the end came three warrior princes:
The first was Captain Milosh Obilich,
The next was Ivan Kosanchich,
And finally the warrior Milan Toplitsa.
It happened that I was standing at the gates,
When Milosh Obilich passed grandly by,
There is no more beautiful warrior in this world.
He dragged his sword there on the stones,
And on his head he wore a helmet
Which was made of a single piece
Of coiled white silk with interwoven feathers,
A colourful cloak hung over his back,
And around his neck he wore a silken scarf.
As he passed he turned and looked at me
And offered me his colourful cloak,
He took it off and gave it to me and said:
Virgin, take this gaudy cloak,
Which I hope you'll remember me by,
This cloak with which you may remember my name:
Dear soul, I will risk my life
In the fight for the great Czar Lazarus;
Pray God, my love, that I may return alive,
And this happiness will soon be yours:
I will take you as my bride to Milan,
Milan Toplitsa, my sworn blood-brother,
The noble Milan, who became my brother
Before Almighty God and Saint John,
To him I will give you as my virgin bride.
After him rode Ivan Kosanchich.
There is no more beautiful warrior in this world.
He dragged his sword there on the stones,
And on his head he wore a helmet
Which was made of a single piece
Of coiled white silk with interwoven feathers,
A colourful cloak hung over his back,
Around his neck he wore a silken scarf,
And on his hand he had a golden ring.
As he passed he turned and looked at me
And offered me the shining golden ring,
And he took it off and gave it to me and said:
Maiden, take this golden wedding ring,
Which I hope you will remember me by,
This ring with which you may remember my name:
Dear soul, I will risk my life
In the fight for the great Czar Lazarus;
Pray God, my love, that I may return alive,
And this happiness will soon be yours:
I will take you as my bride to Milan,
Milan Toplitsa, my sworn blood brother,
Noble Milan, who became my brother
Before Almighty God and Saint John,
I will be the best man at your wedding.
After him rode Milan Toplitsa,
There is no more beautiful warrior in this world.
He dragged his sword there on the stones,
And on his head he wore a helmet
Which was made of a single piece
Of coiled white silk with interwoven feathers,
A colourful cloak hung over his back,
Around his neck he wore a silken scarf,
And on his wrist he had a golden clasp.
As he passed he turned and looked at me
And offered me the shining golden clasp,
He took it off and gave it to me and said:
Virgin, take this shining golden clasp,
By which I hope you will remember me,
This clasp with which you may remember my name:
Dear soul, I will risk my life
In the fight for the great Czar Lazarus;
Pray God, my love, that I may return alive,
And this fortune shall shortly be thine,
And I will take thee for my faithful wife.
With that, the warlords have all ridden away.
And so I seek in this field of slaughter. -
Pavle Orlovich then spoke and said:
O my fairest sister, maiden of Kosovo!
Do you see, dear soul, these battle lines?
Where are they highest over there?
There flowed the blood of heroes
In pools higher than the horses' flanks,
Even higher than the saddles of horses,
Even to the silken cuffs of the riders.
Those you have found have fallen there;
Go back, virgin, to thy white dwelling,
Dye not thy skirts and sleeves with blood. -
When she has heard the words of the wounded hero,
She weeps and tears stream down her beautiful face;
She leaves the plain of Kosovo and walks
To her white village that wails and cries:
O pity, pity! I am so cursed,
That if I touch a green flowering tree,
It would wither and wither, blight and stain.
IX
Who is this handsome hero,
He wields his glowing sword,
His glowing sword in his right hand,
To cut off twenty heads? -
It's Banovich Strahinya! -
Who is this handsome hero, who is he,
Impaling four before he's done,
On his lance and raises them high
Behind him in the river Sitnitsa? -
It's Srdja Zlopogledja! -
Who is this handsome hero
Riding on the great white stallion,
Who holds aloft the banner in his hands
Chasing Turks in chains
And driving them into the river Sitnitsa? -
That's Boshko Jugovich!
*
Dear God! How great is the miracle of it all,
When the army fell on the plain of Kosovo
With all the Yugovichi in its ranks,
Nine brave brothers and the tenth, their father!
The mother of the Yugovichi prays,
That God will give her the quick eyes of a falcon
And the white wings of a swan, that she may fly
To Kosovo, to this plain,
That she may see the Jugovichi, all nine brothers,
And her father, the noble old Yug Bogdan.
And Almighty God grant her what she asks,
Eyes of a falcon, white wings of a swan.
And then she flies over the flat Kosovo
And finds the Yugovichi slain,
All nine brothers and the tenth, Yug Bogdan,
Driven into the ground stand nine lances
With nine grey hawks sitting on their ends,
Beside the lances nine brave horses wait
And near the horses nine fierce, rampant lions.
She hears the horses neigh, the lions roar,
The nine grey hawks scream and caw and caw,
And yet her heart is cold as a stone
And no tears at all rise, and no tears fall.
Then she takes the nine brave horses,
And she takes the wild lions with her,
And she takes the nine grey hawks with her.
Slowly she leads them to her white castle.
From afar the nine wives of her sons could see her.
And outside they go before the castle tower:
And as the mother hears the widows weep,
She hears the horses neigh, the lions roar,
The nine grey hawks cry and caw and caw,
And yet her heart is cold as a stone,
And no tears at all rise, and no tears at all fall.
When it is very late, when it is midnight,
Damian's grey horse begins to cry;
The mother goes to Damian's wife and asks:
O dear daughter, beloved wife of my son,
Why does Damian's stallion scream so?
Is he hungry for the best wheat?
Does he thirst for cool Zvechan water? -
And Damian's wife answers her:
O my mother, mother of my Damian,
The stallion does not cry out for the best wheat,
Nor does it thirst for the water of Zvechan;
Damian fed him with oats till midnight,
And at midnight he rode on the road;
The horse mourns for his noble master,
That he brought him not hither on his back. -
And yet the mother's heart is cold as a stone,
And no tears at all rise, and no tears fall.
As dawn breaks early in the morning,
Two black ravens fly to the castle,
Their wings are red and bloody to the shoulders,
And their beaks all froth with white,
They bear the severed hand of a warrior
With a wedding ring on his finger
And they drop it on the mother's lap.
The mother of the Jugovichi takes the hand
And stares at it, turning it over in her lap,
And then she calls Damian's faithful wife:
O my daughter, beloved wife of Damian,
Do you know whose severed hand this is? -
And Damian's wife answers her:
O dear wife, mother of my husband,
This is the hand of Damian, your son;
I know it, because I recognise this ring,
This is the ring I gave him at our wedding. -
Again the mother takes the severed hand
And stares at it, turning it over in her lap.
Softly then she speaks to the white hand:
O dear dead hand, O dear unripe green apple,
Where did you grow up, where were you torn off?
Dear God! You grew up on this mother's lap,
And you were demolished on the Kosovo plain! -
And now the mother can bear it no longer,
And so her heart swells and breaks with grief
For the Yugovichi, all nine brothers,
And the tenth of them, Yug Bogdan.
X
When they cut off Lazarus' head in the field of blackbirds,
Not a single Serb was there to see it.
But it happened that a Turkish boy saw it,
A slave, the son of one who had been born
Even as a slave, from a Serb mother.
Thus spoke the boy, after he had seen it all:
Oh, have pity, brothers; oh, have pity, Turks,
Here before us lies the noble head of a ruler!
In God's name it would be a sin,
If he were eaten by eagles and crows
Or trampled under foot by horses and heroes. -
He took the head of holy Lazarus
And covered him and put him in sackcloth
And carried him till he found a spring,
And put the head in the water there.
For forty years the head lay in that spring,
While the body lay in the field in Kosovo
It was not hacked by eagles or crows,
It was not trampled by horses or heroes.
For this, dear God, you are to be thanked!
Then one day there came to beautiful Skoplje
A group of youthful carters,
Who transported in their vehicles
Bulgarians and Greeks to Vidin and Nish,
And stopped to spend the night in Kosovo.
They made a supper on the level field
And ate and afterwards became thirsty.
They lit the candle in their lanterns
And went in search of the water of a spring.
Then a young carter said:
See the brilliant moonlight in the water there. -
The second carter answered him:
My brother, I do not think it is moonlight. -
While the third was silent and said nothing,
He turns in his silence towards the east,
And suddenly to God he calls,
The one true God and Saint Nicholas:
Help me, God! Help me, Saint Nicholas! -
He dived into the waters of the spring
And lifted out into the still air
The holy head of Lazarus, the tsar of all Serbs.
He laid it on the green grass by the spring
And turned to get some water in a pitcher,
So that the thirsty carters could all drink.
Next they looked at the fertile earth,
The head was no longer on the grass,
But all alone across the blackbird field,
The sacred head moved towards the body,
To join his bones as it was before.
When in the morning the bright day dawned,
The three young carters sent the message,
A message to the holy Christian priests,
There were about three hundred of them there.
And they called for runners, twelve of them,
And summoned four ancient patriarchs,
From Rome, Constantinople and Jerusalem.
Then they all put on their holy robes,
Put on their high, pointed monk's caps.
And took the old chronicles in their hands
And read prayers and held long vigils there
For three long days and three dark nights,
Neither sitting, nor seeking rest,
Neither lying down, nor sleeping,
But asking and entreating the saint,
To which church or monastery he would go:
Whether Opovo or Krushedol,
Whether Jaska or Beshenovo,
Whether Rakovats or Shishatovats,
Whether Djivsha or Kuvezhdin.
Or whether he would rather go to Macedonia.
But the saint did not want to go to any of these
And wanted to spend the night in the beautiful Ravanitsa,
The church that he himself endowed,
Which rose at the bottom of Mount Kuchaj,
His own church that he himself built,
Built with his own bread, with his own treasure,
And not with tears wept by unhappy subjects
In those years he walked this earth.
XI
Message after message and message after message:
Who sends them? For whom are they intended?
The Turkish Sultan Mehmed sends them all,
And they are for Prijezda, the Duke of Stalach;
They come to him in his white castle there.
O Prijezda, noble voivode of Stalach,
I demand that you send me your three treasures:
First, your deadly glowing sword,
That cuts so easily through wood and stone,
Through wood and stone and even through cold iron;
Second, send thy gallant war-horse, Zhdral,
That flies over the wide and flat fields
And leaps to the height of double walls;
Third, I want your faithful wife. -
Duke Prijezda studies what he reads,
Studies it and writes a brief reply:
Sultan Mehmed, Tsar of all Turks,
Raise an army as large as you like,
And come to Stalach whenever you like.
However you will attack us here,
I will not give you any of my treasures;
For me alone I forged my sword,
For me alone I fed my noble steed Zhdral,
And for me alone I took a wife:
I will give you none of my treasures. -
The Turkish Sultan Mehmed raised an army,
He raised an army and led it to Stalach;
He bombarded Stalach for three long years,
But not a single stone did he remove;
He found no way to conquer this white city,
Nor would he end the siege and march home.
One fine morning on a Saturday.
Duke Prijezda's wife climbed slowly upwards
The city walls that surrounded little Stalach,
And from these heights she looked down into the Morava,
The muddy river below the city.
So Prijezda's wife spoke to him and said:
O Prijezda, my dear lord,
I fear, my master and my lord,
The Turks will blow us up from the underground! -
Duke Prijezda answered her and said:
Be quiet, darling, don't talk like that.
How can you build tunnels under the Morava? -
After that Sunday morning dawned,
And all the nobles went to church,
To stand and hear the solemn mass of God,
And when they left the church and came out again,
Duke Prijezda spoke to them and said:
My lords, my mighty wings,
With which I fly to eat and drink and fight,
After we have eaten and drunk our wine,
Let us open the gates of the castle
And make a raid against the Turks,
To let God and Fortune give us what they will! -
So Prijezda calls to his wife:
My dear, go to the castle cellar
And bring us up the vodka and the wine. -
Yelitsa then took two golden pitchers
And went down to the castle cellar,
But when she reached the bottom of the stairs,
Se saw that the place was full of Turkish soldiers,
Drinking of cool wine from their boots
And toasting the health of Mistress Jelitsa
And then to the death of her husband, Duke Prijezda.
She dropped her jugs on the cellar stones
And ran upstairs to the castle hall.
Your wine is bad, my lord and master,
Very bad, your vodka is even worse!
The castle cellar is full of Turkish soldiers,
They drink of cool wine from their boots,
First they drink to my health
And then they drink to you,
But you, they bury you alive,
They bury you and then drink for your soul. -
Duke Prijezda leapt to his feet
And opened the portals of the city.
They made a sortie against the Turks,
And shot with them, and fought duels with them,
Till some sixty princes were dead,
Sixty princes, but thousands of Turks.
After that Prijezda went back home
And locked the city gates against the Turks.
He took his deadly sword from its scabbard
And cut off the head of Zhdral, his gallant war-horse:
Zhdral, Zhdral, O my dear,
The Turkish tsar will not ride on thy back. -
Then he broke his sharp and red-hot sword:
O glowing sword, O my true right hand,
The Turkish tsar must never hold thee! -
Then he sought his lady in the castle,
And he took his lady gently by the hand:
Dearest Yelitsa, wise and faithful lady.
Will you choose to die with me today?
Or will you be the mistress of a Turk? -
Lady Yelitsa has shed many tears:
With honour I will die with you today,
I will not be the mistress of a Turk
Or trample on the honourable cross,
They cannot force me to betray my faith. -
Then they shook hands, the two of them,
And went up to the rampart above Stalach;
There it was that Yelitsa thus spoke:
O Prijezda, my dear lord and master,
The waters of the Morava have stilled us;
The waters of the Morava should bury us! -
And they held hands and jumped into the river.
Sultan Mehmed finally conquered Stalach,
But he didn't get a single treasure.
Bitterly he cursed the city, that Turkish Tsar:
May Allah destroy you, Stalach Castle!
I had three thousand men when I arrived;
Now I start with only five hundred!
XII
Marko lies by the Tsar's high road,
His spear behind his head, planted in the earth,
He draws around him, there his dark green turban
Covers his face with silver cloth.
The flag stands beside him, chained to the spear shaft,
And on top of it sits a great eagle,
Spreads his wings and makes shade for Marko,
And gives him cool water from his beak,
Cold water for the wounded hero.
But suddenly a witch cries out from the forest:
In God's name, great grey eagle there,
Whatever kindness did this,
Marko did this for you,
What act of kindness or charity,
That you should stretch your wings and shadow him
And bring him water in thy beak,
Cold water for the wounded hero? -
And now the bird, the eagle, speaks to her and says:
Be silent, witch! Shut your stupid mouth!
What kindness has not this Marko done,
What kindness has he not done for me?
It may even be that you remember.
The army's dropping like flies in Kosovo,
The two tsars dying in the field,
Murad dies, the great Tsar Lazarus dies,
And all the blood rises to the stirrups,
Rises even to the silken girdles of heroes,
Men and horses swim in it, swim,
Horse by horse and hero beside hero,
And then the coming of the hungry birds,
As we ate our food of human flesh
And drank our drink of human blood.
My wings grew wet and sticky in the sun,
That blazed in the crystal ball of the sky.
And suddenly I couldn't fly at all,
So stiff with blood and burnt had I let my wings become.
When all the other birds had flown away,
I alone remained on the plain of Kosovo,
Trampled by horses and heroes on foot.
Then God sent Marko to me on the plain,
Who took me from the flowing blood of heroes
And put me behind him on the horse's back.
He took me straight to the nearest forest
And laid me on the green branch of a pine.
Then a gentle rain began to fall,
It fell from the sky and washed my wings,
The blood of noble heroes was washed away,
And I could fly over the forest.
Now join all the eagles,
Join my swift companions.
PART IV
MILAN
TRAGEDY
Dramatis Personae
Venus
Milan, illegitimate son of Torsten
Friends of Milan
Chorus of Frisian women
Grandmother of Evi
Evi wife of Torsten
Torsten
Messenger
Virgin Mary
Venus
Scene: In front of the count's palace in Friesland. There is a statue of Venus on one side; on the other, a statue of Mary. In front of each image is an altar. The goddess Venus appears alone.
VENUS
Far above all men my empire reaches, and I am proud of the name I, the Goddess Venus, both in the courts of heaven and near all those who dwell on the borders of the North Sea, gazing at the sun in the light; those who respect my power I will honour, but will destroy all who dare to blaspheme me. For even in the race of the celestials this feeling finds a home, yea, joy in the honour that men do. And the truth I shall soon show; for the son of Torsten, born of Anna Katharina, alone of all the inhabitants in this land of Friesland, calls me the worst deity. Of love he scorns, and, as of marriage, will know nothing of it; but Mary, the daughter of God, the mother of Jesus, he worships her, and calls her the queen of the celestials, and ever through the green forest he accompanies his virgin mistress, chases wild beasts of the earth with his hounds, and enjoys friendship with Mary, a friendship too high for mortal children. There I am not merciful, no! why should I be? But for his sins against me I will take vengeance on Milan this very day; long ago I cleared the ground of many obstacles, so that now it needs but little work. For when he came one day from the house of Benjamin, his teacher, to experience the solemn mystical rites of the Eucharist and to be initiated there in the church, Evi, his father's noble wife, saw him, and according to my plan she found her heart seized with wild desire. And as soon as she came to this Frisian realm, she went to Baltrum, where she sees this land, for love of the youth; and to win his love in the days to come, she called after his name the temple she had founded for the goddess Venus. Now, when Torsten left the land of Bavaria, fleeing the defilement of blood, and sailed with his wife to this shore, he was content to suffer an exile for a year, then the wretched woman began to shut herself up in silence from love's cruel scourge, and none of her servants know what disease afflicts her. But this passion of hers must not so pass away. Nay, I will discover the matter to Torsten, and all will be exposed. Then the father will kill his child, my bitter enemy, by a curse, for the Lord gave Torsten this power to ask three wishes of God, but never to ask in vain. So Evi must die, an honoured death it is indeed, yet a dying; for I will not suffer her suffering to outweigh the punishment of my enemy, as she will satisfy my honour. But behold! I see the son of Torsten coming hither: Milan, fresh from the work of the hunt. I will have him. At his back follows a long train of friends, in joyous cries of union singing hymns of praise to Mary, his mistress; for he resists that death has opened its gates to him, and that this is his last glimpse of light.
(Venus disappears. Milan and his friends of the hunt sing. They move to worship at the altar of the Virgin Mary).
MILAN
Come, friends, sing to Mary, daughter of God, enthroned in the heavens, whose devotees we are.
FRIENDS
Our lady, dear lady, terrible queen, daughter of God, Hail! Hail! Born of Anne and Joachim, peerless in the midst of the virgin choir, who have thy dwelling in the wide mansions of heaven in the golden house of God. Hail! Fairest Mary, fairer than all the daughters of heaven!
MILAN
For thee, my lady, I bring this wreath woven from a virgin meadow, where even the shepherd dare not let his flock howl, and has never yet hewn the scythe; and with the dew from rivers comes purity, that the garden may flourish. Such as know no cunning lore, in whose nature self-control, which is perfect, has a house, may pluck these flowers, but not the evil world. Accept, I pray, dear mistress, this rosary from my holy hand, to crown thy locks of gold; for I, and none other of mortals, have this high merit to be with thee, with the opposite, who hear thy voice, though I see not thy face. So be it mine to end my life as I began it.
LEADER OF FRIENDS
My little prince! We must call upon the angels, our lords, so will you hear a kind word from me?
MILAN
Why not? I will! Otherwise I'd be a fool.
LEADER
Do you know the way of the world?
MILAN
I do not; but why such a question?
LEADER
I hate selfishness, which does not care for the love of all men.
MILAN
And rightly so; selfishness in man is always full of bile.
LEADER
But there is a charm in politeness.
MILAN
That's the greatest thing for sure; yes, and profit at trifling cost.
LEADER
Do they believe the same law in heaven?
MILAN
I think so, because all the laws we humans have come from heaven.
LEADER
Why do you neglect to greet an exalted goddess?
MILAN
Of whom dost thou speak? Control thy tongue watchfully, lest it cause mischief.
LEADER
Venus I mean, whose image hangs over your gate.
MILAN
I greet her from afar, and keep my chastity.
LEADER
Yet she is a sublime goddess, far famous on earth.
MILAN
Among celestial beings and humans we have our different preferences.
LEADER
I wish you happiness and wisdom as far as you need it.
MILAN
No deity whose worship the dark night demands has charms for me.
LEADER
My dear, we should enjoy the gifts of the gods.
MILAN
Go in, my faithful friends, and prepare food in the house; a well-filled table has its charms after the hunt. Roast my dove, you must, that when I have had my food, I may harness it to the chariot and fly. Like thy goddess of love, a long farewell to her.
(Milan goes into the count's palace, followed by all his friends, except the leader, who prays before the image of Medicean Venus).
LEADER
Meanwhile, with sober mind, for I must not copy my young master, I have performed my prayer before your image, Goddess Venus, in such a manner as a slave should do. But you should forgive all who speak empty words in the fierce heat of youth; pretend not to hear, for the goddess must be wiser than the sons of men.
(The leader goes into the palace. The choir of Frisian women enters).
CHORUS
A rock is there where, they say, the ocean dew disperses, and from its brow it pours an abundant stream for the jars to be dipped in; it was here I had a friend who washed coats of purple in the trickling stream, and she spread them on the face of warm sunny rocks; from her I had news, first, that my beloved was consumed on the bed of sickness, sleeping in her house, a thin veil overshadowing her head of golden hair. And this is the third day that I hear that she has closed her beautiful lips and her chaste body refuses all nourishment, eager to hide her suffering and reach the immortal death of death. Girl, you must be possessed, by the panic, or by witchcraft spells, or by the paranoid fear and gleam of the moon. Or you have sinned against Mary, the Virgin, who is propitiated for your guilt without sacrifice. For she reaches across the vastness of the seas and past the boundaries of the earth on the waves of the ocean. Or is there an adversary in thy house thy lord, the chief of Crksena's sons, those heroes nobly born, to secret amours hidden from thee? Or hath a sailor, coming hither from Denmark, reached this port of Marienhafe, which sailors love, with evil tidings for our Countess Evi, and she with sorrow from her heavy fate is confined to her bed? Yes, and often the woman spans a feeling of miserable helplessness arising from pangs of childbirth or passionate desire. I too felt this sharp thrill through me at times, but I cried out to Mary, Queen of Heaven, who comes from Heaven to help us in our sadness, and thanks to the grace of Heaven I always greet her with my Hail. Look! Where the old grandmother brings Countess Evi from the house to the door, while on her brow the cloud of darkness deepens. My soul longs to know what her grief is, the cancer that eats up our Countess's fading charms.
(Evi is led out and placed on a sofa by the grandmother).
GRANDMOTHER
Oh, the illnesses of mortal men! The cruel illnesses they have to endure! What can I do for you? From what song will you be comforted? Here is the bright sunlight, here the azure sky; behold, we have brought thee on thy bed of sickness outside the palace; for thy health was gone, but soon thou returnest to thy chamber. Disappointment quickly follows, thou hast no joy for long; the present has no power to please thee; on something absent next thou setest thy heart. Better ill than the death of the sick; the first is but one sick, the last unites spiritual sorrow with bodily toil. All man's life is full of anguish; no rest from his sorrow he finds; but if there be anything that loves beyond this life, yet it is dark to us. And so we show our mad love for this life, because its light is shed on earth, and because we know no other, and nothing of all our earth has been revealed to us; and trusting in fables we drift, driven by chance.
EVI
(wildly)
Lift my body, lift my head! My limbs are all unrelaxed, kind friend. O my love, lift my arms, my shapely arms. The wreath on my head is too heavy for me to bear; away with it, and let my curls fall over my shoulders.
GRANDMOTHER
Be of good heart, dear child; Do not frolic so wildly. Lie still, be brave, and thou shalt bear thy sickness more easily; Suffering for mortals is Nature's iron law.
EVI
Ah! Would I were to draw a drop of water from a dew-pouring spring and lie down to rest on the grassy meadow beside the shade of the elm!
GRANDMOTHER
My child, what wild language is this? O say not such things in public, wildly whirling words, bred of madness!
EVI
Away to the hill take me! To the woods, to the pines go, Where hounds pursue the prey, Hard on the scent-trail of fawns. Goddess! What joy to muster them, to catch the kite, Thessalian hunting spikes to balance near my golden hair, then let them fly.
GRENDMOTHER
Why, my child, these anxious worries? What have you to do with hunting? Why so eager for the flowing spring, When hard with these towers stands a hill, Well watered, whither thou canst freely move?
EVI
O Mary, triumphant over the serpent, I would be in thy path, thou taming Venetian rats!
GRENDMOTHER
Why dost thou betray thy madness in these wild whirling words? Now thou shouldst carry hatred away to the hills to hunt wild beasts, and now thy longing is to ride the horse over the waveless sandy beach. It takes a cunning seer to tell what deity it is that diverts you from your course and beguiles the senses, my child.
EVI
(calmer)
Ah, me, ah! What have I done? Where have I strayed, abandoned my senses? Bad, bad! Struck by a demon's curse! Woe is me! Cover my head again, grandmother. Shame fills me for the words I have spoken. Hide me then; from my eyes the tears flow, and for the great shame I turn them away. It is painful to come to one's senses again, and madness, evil though it be, has the advantage of no knowledge of the fall of one's reason.
GRANDMOTHER
There I cover thee; but when will death hide my body in the grave? Many lessons teach me. Yea, mortal men should undertake to cherish friendships only, But not on such as assail the heart's core; Affections and ties should be light, that they may slip or tighten. For a poor heart to grieve for two, as I do for my mistress, is a burden sore to bear. Men say that too great occupations in life are more cause of disappointment than of joy, and too often they are enemies to health. Therefore do not praise excess as much as moderation, and wise men will agree with me.
(Evi falls back on the sofa.)
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
O old lady, faithful grandmother of Evi, our Countess, we see her sorrowful need; but what it is that she lacks we cannot discern, and so I will learn from you and hear your opinion.
GRANDMOTHER
I ask her, but am none the wiser, for she will not answer.
LEADER
Does she also not say what the source of these worries is?
GRANDMOTHER
The same answer you must assume, for she is mute on every point.
LEADER
How weak and consumed is her body!
GRANDMOTHER
What wonder? It is three days since she last tasted food.
LEADER
Is this infatuation or an attempt to die?
GRANDMOTHER
It is her death; this fasting aims at the early end of life.
LEADER
A strange story when she satisfies her husband.
GRANDMOTHER
She hides her suffering from him, and swears she is not ill.
LEADER
Can't he guess it from her face?
GRANDMOTHER
He is not now in his own country.
LEADER
But do you not stand in your effort to find out her complaint, her opinion?
GRANDMOTHER
I have tried every plan and everything in vain; but even now I will not relax my zeal, that even if you stay, you may witness my devotion to my unhappy beloved. Come, come, my dear child, let us forget, both of us, our former words; be gentler, smooth the gloomy brow, and change the current of thy thought, and I, if I have not succeeded in disturbing thee, will leave it alone and find a better way. If thou art sick with diseases which thou canst not name, there are women here to do thee right; but if thy trouble may be exposed to the ears of men, speak that the physicians may speak of it. Come then, why so dumb? Thou shalt not be so dumb, my child, but scold me if I speak falsely, or, if I give good counsel, give a word, a look this way! Ah, friends, we waste our pains to no purpose; we are as far off as ever; she would not fall back on my arguments, nor will she yield now. Now, become more obstinate than the sea, but be assured that if you die, then you are a traitor to your children, for they shall not inherit their father's halls, yea, by this warrior woman who bore a son, To rule over you, an illegitimate son she has borne, But not a bastard bred, as you well know, but just Milan - -.
(At the mention of his name, Evi's attention is suddenly caught).
EVI
Ah! Oh!
GRANDMOTHER
Ha! Could that name touch you?
EVI
You have raised me up, Grandmother; I beseech you by the Goddess, mention this young man no more.
GRANDMOTHER
Alive you are again, but you still refuse to help your children and preserve your life.
EVI
My babies I love, but there is another storm churning through me.
GRANDMOTHER
Granddaughter, are your hands clean from bloodshed?
EVI
My hands are clean, but there is a stain on my soul.
GRANDMOTHER
The matter of an adversary's secret sorcery?
EVI
A friend is my destroyer, an unwilling one like me.
GRANDMOTHER
Has Torsten done something wrong?
EVI
Never may I be unfaithful to him.
GRANDMOTHER
What strange secret is it that drives you to die?
EVI
O, leave my sin and me alone, It is not that I have sinned against thee.
GRANDMOTHER
Never willingly! And if I fail, I'll be close to your door.
EVI
How now? You exercise strength in holding my hand.
GRANDMOTHER
Yes, and I'll never lose my grip on your knees.
EVI
Woe to thee! My sorrows, should you know them, I'd beat you back.
GRANDMOTHER
What aching sorrow for me, not to win?
EVI
It will be death for you; though for me it brings great glory.
GRANDMOTHER
And do you hide this blessing despite my prayers?
EVI
I do, for it is out of shame. I plan an honourable escape.
GRANDMOTHER
Say it, and your honour will shine brighter.
EVI
Away, I beseech thee; let go my hand.
GRANDMOTHER
I will not, for the gift you gave me is now denied me.
EVI
I give it to you out of reverence for your holy pleading touch.
GRANDMOTHER
Henceforth I hold my peace; it is thy peace now to speak of.
EVI
Ah! blissful mother, what love was thine!
GRANDMOTHER
Your love for the boar? Granddaughter, or what do you mean?
EVI
And woe to you! My grandmother, the bride of the Holy Spirit.
GRANDMOTHER
What ails you, child? Speak ill of the relatives.
EVI
Myself the third to suffer! How I have been destroyed!
GRANDMOTHER
You strike me dumb! Where does this story end?
EVI
This Eros has long been our curse.
GRANDMOTHER
I don't know what to learn any more.
EVI
Ah! Would you tell me what I have to say?
GRANDMOTHER
I am not a prophetess to unravel mysteries.
EVI
What do they mean when they speak of people possessed by Eros?
GRANDMOTHER
The sweetest and bitterest, my child.
EVI
I will find only the bitter.
GRANDMOTHER
Ha! My child, are you in love?
EVI
Anna Katharina's son is.
GRANDMOTHER
Do you mean Milan?
EVI
You, not I, who pronounced his name.
GRANDMOTHER
O God in heaven! What is this, my child? You have ruined me. Outrageous!
EVI
I will not live and endure it; hateful is life, hateful to my eyes is light. This body in which I am imprisoned, I will discard it and free myself from existence through my death. Farewell, my life is no more. Yes, for the chaste I have evil passions, win his will perhaps, but still he has his chastity. Venus, it seems, is not a goddess after all, but something else, a demon, for she is the ruin of my whole family.
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
O, too plainly we heard our Countess raise her voice to tell her surprising tale of wretched woe. Come, death, before I reach your state of feeling, beloved mistress. O terrible! Woe for these sufferings! Woe for the sorrows that devour mortals! Thou hast been destroyed! Thou hast exposed thy sin to the light of heaven. What has each day and hour left for thee? A strange event will take place in this house. For it is no longer uncertain where the star of thy love stands, thou unhappy daughter of Baltrum.
EVI
Women of Friesland, dwelling here on the border of the land, often already in a careless mood through the long hours of the night, I wonder why the life of man is corrupted; and it seems to me that their evil fall is not due to a natural breach of judgment, for there are many things connected with feeling, but we must look at the matter in this light: by teachings and experience, learning the right, some with indolence, others preferring pleasure of some kind, or others out of duty. Now life has much pleasure, protracted conversation, and leisure, that seductive evil; likewise there is shame, which is of two kinds, one a noble quality, the other a curse to families; but if for each in their own time it was clearly known, these two could not have the same letters to denote them. So, having made up my mind on these points, it was not likely that any drug would change me and make me think the contrary. And I will say this as my judgement went. When love wounded me, I wished how I could best bear clever Milan. From that day I began to keep silent what I suffered. For I trust not in counsellors, who know well that they preach to others out of presumption, but have themselves innumerable sorrows. Next, I have the noble endurance of these wanton thoughts, striving for duration for victory. And lastly, if I could not succeed in mastering love, I would strive to die; and none can pursue my aim. For I would make my virtue appear to all, My shame few can witness. I knew my sickly passion; To resist him I saw how infamous I should be; And more, I learned so well to know That I was but a woman the world abhors. Curses, hideous curses on that woman who first shamed her spouse for her lovers besides her lord! It was from noble families that this curse began to spread among our race. For if noble shame prevails among the noble, the poor people will naturally think it is right. Whom also I hate, who make a profession of purity, though in secret reckless sinners. How can these, under foam-born Venus, still look their husbands in the face? Do they never feel a guilty thrill that their accomplices, the night or the chambers of their house, find a voice and speak? This is what calls me to die, kind friends, that I may justify my lord and the children I have borne. No! May they grow up and dwell in glorious Emden, free to speak and act, heirs of such fair fame as a mother can bequeath. For to know that father or mother have sinned twists the steeliest heart to slavery. These alone, men say, can endure the battles of life, a righteous and virtuous soul, in whom also God ever lives. At present the villain exposes himself soon or late, and holds up a mirror to them, like some blooming girls, among such I may never be seen!
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
Look now! How beautifully is chastity considered, whose fruit has a good reputation among men.
GRANDMOTHER
My countess, true is thy tale of woe, But lately told, for the moment it strikes me With the wild warning, but now I reflect on my folly; The second thoughts are often best even with men. Thy fate is no rarity, no calculation; Thou struggles through the passion Venus sends. Thou art in love; what wonder? So are many others. Wilt thou corrupt thyself? There's little profit, I think, for those that love, or yet love their comrades, if death must be their end; for if the Countess's love be greater in its power than man can bear, yet she is gracious to entreat hearts, and only when she finds a proud, unnatural spirit, does she take faith in her. Love's way is in the sky, and in the midst of the ocean she swims; from her are all the springs of nature; she sows the seeds of love, inspires the warm desire to which we children of Mother Earth owe everything. Those who have to do with books of ancient scribes, or who are occupied with learning, know how the gods loved men; yet these remained in heaven. Wilt thou not depart? Thy father, it seems, would have begotten thee on special terms for the lords, if thou wilt not live in these laws. How many, I pray thee, men of golden mind, when they see their wives unfaithful, pretend not to see it? How many fathers, when their sons have gone astray, still help them in their love? It is part of human wisdom to conceal the act of shame. Nor does man aim at too great refinement in his life; for men cannot repair with accuracy even the roof that covers a house; and how wilt thou escape if thou fall into so deep a pit? Nay, if thou hast more of good than of evil, thou wilt recover more than well, according to thy nature. O my God, my dear child, from the evil thoughts that the weary pride is gone, for this is nothing else, this desire to meet the angels in perfection. The face of your love, it is the Will of Heaven. Sick art thou, turn not thy sickness to any happy theme. For there are charms and charms to soothe the soul; surely some remedies may be found for thy sickness. Men, no doubt, may find it long and late, If our women develop no shade to the head.
LEADER
Though in your present need she gives you the wiser counsel, Evi, still I praise you. Still my praise may sound more cruel in your ear Than her advice.
EVI
It is this plausible tongue that overthrows good governments and houses of men. We should not speak to please the ear, but to show the way that leads to noble glory.
GRANDMOTHER
What does this solemn speech mean? You need not rounded phrases, but a man. Straightway we must move to tell him frankly how it stands with thee. Had not your life come to such a crisis, or were you full of self-control, which I praise, and had I also wished to gratify your passions, but now it is a struggle fierce to save your life, and therefore less to blame.
EVI
Cursed suggestion! Peace, grandmother! These shameful words you shall never utter again!
GRANDMOTHER
Shame, perhaps, but still better for you than false honour. Better this deed, if it will save thy life, Than this name, which thy pride will make thee kill.
EVI
I beseech thee, go no further! For thy words are plausible, but infamous; For though yet Eros hath not undermined my soul, If in shrewd words I adhere to thy bad suggestion, I shall be led Into the gorge from which I now escape.
GRANDMOTHER
If thou be of this spirit, thou hast sinned; but as it is, hear me; for this is the next best course; I have charms in my house to appease thy love, but just now I thought of them; these cure thee of thy sickness in no shameful way, thy mind remains unharmed, if thou wilt, but be brave. But from him whom thou desirest, we must obtain some token, some word, or fragment of his garment, and thereby join two to One Love.
EVI
Is your drug an ointment or a potion?
GRANDMOTHER
I cannot tell; be content, my granddaughter, to profit by it, and ask no questions.
EVI
I fear you will prove your wisdom to me.
GRANDMOTHER
If thou dost fear that, confess thyself, thou dost fear everything; but why thy terror?
EVI
Lest thou breathe a word of it to the son of Torsten.
GRANDMOTHER
Peace, my granddaughter! I will do all things well; only you, foam-born Venus, are my partner in the work! And for the rest of my destiny it will be enough that I tell our friends within the house.
(The grandmother goes into the palace.)
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
O love, love, that from the eyes diffuse soft longing flow, That comes on the souls of those with whom you fight against sweet grace, O, never in evil mood appear to me, Nor from time and mood flee! Even fire and a meteor close a mightier arrow than Eros. Idle, idle through the streams of the Ems, And in the sacred tabernacles of Jesus, Friesland's heaps bring the slaughtered cattle; While Love we adore, Love, the queen of men, Who holds the key to Jesus' holy heart, Love dignifies not that one Who, when he comes, lays waste on the altar, And marks his way to mortal hearts by widespread woe. There was this maiden in the glory of Dornum, A maiden that knew not married joys; She let the queen of love snatch her from her home Across the sea, and gave her a Frankish son, Amid blood and smoke and murderous marriage hymns, To be her a desperate devil of hell; Woe, woe for his wooing! Ah! Holy walls of Emden, ah, fountain of the Ems, could you bear witness to what course the queen of love pursues. For with the flaming arrows she has sanctified the mystical marriage of Mary, the mother of the God-begotten Jesus. All that will inspire her was full of reverence for the Queen of Love and flew back and forth before her like a bee.
EVI
Peace, O women, peace! I am ruined!
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
What, Evi, is this terrible event in your house?
EVI
Silence! Let me hear what those inside are saying.
LEADER
I am silent; surely this is the prelude to evil.
EVI
Great goddess! How terrible are my sufferings!
CHORUS
What a cry! What a loud alarm, what thou sayest, what a sudden terror, mistress, to dismay thy soul.
EVI
I am ruined. Stand here at the door, and hear the noise that comes in the house.
CHORUS
Thou art already at the closed door; this is for thee to hear the sounds that go forth from within. And tell me, O tell me, what evil may come afoot.
EVI
It is the son of the horse-loving Anna Katharina, called Milan, who hurls virgin curses at his servant.
CHORUS
I hear a noise, but cannot tell how it comes. Ah! It is through the door that the sound reached you.
EVI
Yes, yes, he clearly calls it an interlude between vice and that of his master's honour.
CHORUS
Woe, woe to us! Thou art betrayed, dear woman! What counsel shall we give thee? Thy secret is revealed, thou art utterly ruined.
EVI
Ah woe is me!
CHORUS
Betrayed by friends!
EVI
She ruined me by speaking of my unhappiness; kindly meant, but a sick way to cure my illness.
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
What will you do now in your cruel dilemma?
EVI
I know only one way, one cure for these ills of mine, and that is immediate death.
(Milan bursts out of the palace, followed by the grandmother).
MILAN
O moist mother earth! O sun, unclouded orb! What words, unfit for all lips, have reached my ears!
GRANDMOTHER
Peace, my love, lest any hear thy cry.
MILAN
I cannot hear such dreadful words and grasp my peace.
GRANDMOTHER
I beseech thee by thy right hand.
MILAN
Leave my hand, do not touch my cloak.
GRANDMOTHER
O to thy knees I pray, destroy me not altogether.
MILAN
Why do you say that, if, as you pretend, your lips are blameless?
GRANDMOTHER
My love, this is not a story to be heard abroad.
MILAN
A virtuous tale is more irritated.
GRANDMOTHER
Never spurn your vows, my love.
MILAN
My tongue has made a vow, but not my heart.
GRANDMOTHER
My love, what will you do? Destroy your friends?
MILAN
Friends indeed! The wicked are no friends of mine.
GRANDMOTHER
Forgive me; to err is human, child.
MILAN
Great God, why did you, to man's hurt, let woman, the evil serpent, dwell where the sun shines? Wouldst thou that mankind should have multiplied without women, that they should have reared their seed, but hadst paid gold or iron or heavy bronze in thy temples, and bought a concubine, thus dwelling in independence, free from women. But now, as soon as we bring this plague into our house, we bring its power on our soil. From this it is clear what a great curse a woman is: the father, who begot her and nursed her to free himself from the fool, gives her a guard and wraps her up; while the husband, taking the noxious poison into his house, tenderly covers his sad idol in fine clothes and drowns her in robes, and the unhappy light wastes the wealth of his house. For he is in this dilemma; if they say his marriage has brought him good connections, he is glad to keep the wife he detests; or, if he gets a good wife but useless relations, he tries to smother the bad luck with the good. But it is easiest for him who has settled down in his house as a woman only a number, incompetent in her simplicity. I hate clever women; never may she enter my house who wants to know more than women can know; for in these studied women love plants a greater store of villainy, while the artless woman is naked in her shallow wit from frivolity. No servant should ever have access to a woman, but men should not speak to them biting beasts, not live in which case they do not speak to anyone and are not answered by those. But as it is, the wicked have wickedness in their chambers, and their servants carry it abroad. Even so, wretch, thou camest to join me in a crime against my father's honour; wherefore I must wash away this stain in running streams, and plunge the water into my ears. How could I commit such a crime when I feel polluted by the mention of her? Be well, woman, it is only my religious scruple that saves you. For had I not been unexpectedly caught by a vow, by heaven, I would not have failed to tell my father all. But now I will be gone from the house while Torsten is abroad, and will claim strict silence. But when my father comes, I will return and see how you and your mistress face him, and so I shall know by experience the extent of your boldness. Damn you both! I can never satisfy my hatred for women! Though some say that is always my theme, for in truth they are always evil. So let a woman prove herself chaste, or let me still trample on her.
(Milan off in anger.)
CHORUS
O the cruel, unhappy fate of women! What art, what argument have we, once we have made an effort, with craft to untie the tightly drawn knot?
EVI
I have found my desert. O earth, O daylight! How can I escape the blow of fate? How hide my anguish, kind friends? What god comes to help me, what mortal to save me and help me in injustice? The present misfortune of my life admits of no escape. Unhappy me of my whole sex!
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
Alas, alas! The deed is done, your plans have gone awry, my countess, and all is lost.
EVI
(to the grandmother)
Cursed woman! Traitor to your friends! How you have ruined me! May God, my Maker, smite thee with his fiery wedge and disarm thee in thy place. Did I not foresee thy purpose, did I not command thee to keep silence about the matter which is now my shame? But thou wouldst not be silent; wherefore my good name shall not go with me to the grave. But now I must set up another scheme. The youth, in the fierceness of his rage, will tell his father of my sin and fill the world with stories to my shame. Damnation seize thee and every meddling fool who would serve unwilling friends by dishonest means!
GRANDMOTHER
Mistress, you may condemn the mischief I have done, for sorrow overwhelms your judgment; but I can answer you when you hear. I have nursed thee; I love thee still; but in my search for medicine to cure thy disease, I found what I least sought. Had I succeeded, however, I would have been called wise, for the credit we gain for our wisdom is measured by our success.
EVI
Is it fair, is it a satisfaction to me, that you should first wound me, then give me balmy words?
GRANDMOTHER
We assume too long; I have not been wise, I possess no wisdom; but there are still ways of escape from adversity, my child.
EVI
Be foolish from now on; evil was your first counsel to me, evil according to your tried scheme. Start afresh and leave me, look to yourself; I will arrange my own fortune for the best.
(The grandmother off to the palace.)
Ye dear daughters of Friesland, give me the only blessing I crave: bury in silence what you have heard here.
LEADER
By the majestic Mary, the child of God, I swear that I will never reveal your sufferings.
EVI
It is well. But I, with all my mind, can only find a way out of this misfortune, so as to save the honour of my children and give me some help as it stands. For never will I bring shame on my homeland, nor, to save a poor life, will I face Torsten after my disgrace.
LEADER
Are you then cured of sorrow?
EVI
By death! I must devise the means.
LEADER
Silence!
EVI
You at least advise me well. For on that day I shall please Venus, the destroyer, by laying down my life and letting myself be conquered by the cruellest love! And yet my dying will be the curse of another, lest he learn to rejoice in my misfortune; but if he will share the same plague with me, he will find wisdom.
(Evi enters the palace.)
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
O to find some pathless cave, there by the creative hand of God to become a bird! Away would I fly to the Rgein's ripple, and to the waters of the Danube, where the unhappy daughters of the Father, in their grief for Jesus, scatter into the gloomy tide the amber brilliance of their tears. And to the apple orchard Avalon of those minstrels in the west I would come, where the ocean no longer grants the sailors passage across the deep darkness, and where there they find the holy hell guarded by Hel, where the waters fast from the manna, and then ascend to the throne-seat of God in his heavenly Jerusalem, and the holy earth, the bounteous Mother, bestows delights springing from her heavenly breasts. O white-winged boat, that from the rising ocean wave fetched my countess beloved from her happy father's house, to crown my countess under the bride's pain! Surely there were evil omens in that port, At least of Baltrum, about that ship, And the crew cut its twisted rope ends on the beach of Norddeich, And out on shore she stepped. Whence comes it that her heart is crushed, cruelly beset by Venus with unholy love-lust! So by bitter pain in her bridal bower she will tie a noose to fasten it to her fair white neck, to depart from life for this detestable multitude, all flattering her name and fame, and so free the soul from the sting of suffering!
(The grandmother rushes out of the palace.)
GRANDMOTHER
Help! To the rescue of all who stand near the palace! She has hanged herself, our Countess, the Lady of Torsten!
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
Woe to the day! The deed is done; our countess mistress is no more, dead she hangs in the dangling noose.
GRANDMOTHER
Haste! Some bring a double-edged knife to cut the knot around her neck.
FIRST HALF-CHORUS
Friends, what shall we do? Do you think we should enter the house and untie the Countess from the tight noose?
SECOND HALF-CHORUS
Why should we? Are there not young servants here? To do too much is no safe way in life.
GRANDMOTHER
Lay down the unfortunate corpse, stretch out the limbs. That was a bitter way to sit at home and guard my master's house!
(The grandmother enters.)
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
She is dead, the poor lady; I hear that. Already they are spreading the corpse.
(Torsten and his retinue have entered unnoticed).
TORSTEN
Women, can you tell me what the commotion in the palace means? There came the sound of servants weeping bitterly before my ears. No one of my household wants to open wide the gates and make me a pilgrim from the prophetic shrine in Lourdes. Has he met old Conrad? No, though he is far advanced in years, I should mourn should he leave this house.
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
It is not against old Conrad that this fate, to strike thee, should aim at this blow; prepare thy care for a younger corpse.
TORSTEN
Woe is me! Is it a child that death deprives me of?
LEADER
They live; but, cruelest news of all to thee, their mother is no more!
TORSTEN
What, my wife dead!? By what cruel chance?
LEADER
Over her neck she tied the knot.
TORSTEN
Had grief heated her blood? Or what had happened to her?
LEADER
I know it, but now I have come to the house to lament your grief, O Torsten.
TORSTEN
Woe is me! Why have I crowned my head with braided garlands, When misfortune greets my homecoming? Unlock the doors, servants, loosen their bolts, that I may see the pitiful sight, my wife, whose death is death to me!
(The central doors of the palace open to reveal the corpse).
Woe! Woe to you for your pitiful lot! Thou hast done thyself pain deep enough to overthrow this family. Ah! Ah! The insolence of death by violence and unnatural means, the desperate effort of thine own poor hand! Who cast the shadow over your life, you my poor beautiful lady?
(Torsten sings)
Alas, my cruel lot!
Sorrow has done its worst to me!
O fortune, how strong hast thou
Thy foot upon me
And on my house,
By devilish hands,
That inflict an unexpected blot upon me!
Nay, utter exhaustion of my life,
So that I live no more;
For I see, alas!
So broad an ocean of grief
That I can never swim again,
To reach the shore again,
Nor breaststroke
Through the flood of this disaster!
How shall I speak of thee,
My poor dear wife,
What shall I tell of suffering?
You vanish like a bird
Out of the covert of my hand
And take a long leap
From me into the halls of the realm of the dead.
Alas and woe!
This is a bitter, bitter sight!
This must be a judgement
That God has sent from the sins
Of a father sent.
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
My prince, not to thee alone comes such grief; thou hast lost a noble wife, but so many others also.
TORSTEN
(singing)
Could I hide myself
In the blackest depth of the earth,
And in the darkness
With the dead
In misery to dwell,
Now that I am free from thy dear presence!
For thou hast slain me,
More than thyself.
Who can tell me
What caused the fatal blow
That reached your heart, dear wife?
Will no one tell me what happened?
Will my palace give shelter in vain
To a flock of sacrificial lambs?
Woe, woe for you, my wife!
Woe before speech,
Past the conjugal bed,
I see in my empty house;
I am a ruined man,
My home a loneliness,
My children orphans!
CHORUS
Gone art thou, and left us, Thou dearest wife, and noblest of women, Under the bright eye of sun or night's illuminating radiance. Poor house, what sorrow is thy part now! Our eyes are wet with tears to see thy fate; But the evil that is to follow Has long filled me with terror.
TORSTEN
Ha! What means this letter? Clasped by her dear hand, it has a strange tale to tell. Had the poor lady written it as a last request about my marriage and her children? Take heart, poor ghost; no woman henceforth shall marry thy Torsten, or enter his house. Ah! How thy face blinds my sight! Come, I will unfold the sealed parcel, And read the letter's message to me.
CHORUS
Woe is us! Here is another evil sent from heaven. I see what has happened, I should count my lot in life no longer worth winning. My lord's house is ruined, made to nothing, we say. Save him, O heaven, if it can be. Hearken to our prayer, for we see, with prophetic eye, an omen that is evil.
TORSTEN
O terror! Woe upon woe! And yet they come, too deep for words, too hard to bear. Ah woe is me!
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
What is it? If I may take part in it.
TORSTEN
(singing)
This letter speaks loud
Of a terrible story!
Where can I escape my misery?
For I am ruined
And ruined,
So terrible are the words
Which I find here so clear,
As if she were shouting the words to me;
Woe, woe is me!
LEADER
Ah! Your words are the harbingers of pain.
TORSTEN
I can no longer hold the accursed tale in the portal of my lips, cruel is its exterior. Ah woe is me! Milan has dared by brute force to injure my honour, enduring nothing from God, whose holy eye is above all. O Father Jehovah, once you promised to fulfil three prayers of mine; answer one of these wishes and kill my son, he shall not escape this single day, if the prayers you have given me are indeed answered.
LEADER
O count, I beseech thee, call back the prayer; afterwards thou wilt see thy error. Listen, I pray.
TORSTEN
It cannot be! Besides, I will banish him from this land, and by one of two fates he will be struck down: Either God, in deference to my prayer, will cast his body into the house of the realm of the dead; or banish him from this land, a wanderer to a foreign shore, there he shall live a life of misery as a fugitive.
LEADER
Behold, here comes he himself, your son Milan, just in time; release your shameful rage, Count Torsten, and I will tell you what is best for your house.
(Enter Milan.)
MILAN
I heard your voice, papa, and had to come here at once; but I do not know the cause of your present suffering, but wish to learn from you.
(He sees the dead body of Evi.)
Ha! What is this? Your wife is dead? It is very strange; she was there, but I left her; only for a moment, as she saw the light. How did she come to this? The manner of her death? I would like to know that from you, father. Are you mute? Silence does not help in trouble; yes, for the heart that everyone wants to know must show its curiosity in the hour of sorrow. Be sure that it is not right, Father, to hide misfortune from those who love, yes, have more than love for you.
TORSTEN
O ye sons of men, ye victims of a thousand idle errors, wherefore ye teach your innumerable craft, wherefore ye strive to find a way for everything, while ye know not your price, and have never yet witnessed it, whose souls are senseless!
MILAN
A master at his craft the man who can force fools to be wise! But these untimely subtleties of thy father's make me fear, thy tongue speaks wildly through need.
TORSTEN
Fie on you! Man needs a certain test to know his friends, a touchstone to try their hearts, to know the friend true or false; all men should have two voices, one is the voice of honesty, the other of expediency and honesty rejected opposite, and then we cannot be deceived.
MILAN
Say, has a friend slandered me, and has he still your ear? And I, though guiltless, am condemned? I am amazed, for your random frantic words fill me with wild alarm.
TORSTEN
O the spirit of mortal man! To what duration will it go? What limit will his brave safety have? For if he continues to grow as man's life progresses, and each successor surpasses the man before him in disgrace, God must add another sphere of the world to receive the scoundrels and rascals. Behold this man; him, my own son, he has insulted my honour, his guilt clearly proved by my dead wife. Now that thou hast dared this unhappy crime, come, look thy father in the face. Are you the man who comes together with God as one standing above the vulgar herd? Art thou the chaste and sinless saint? Thy boasting will never persuade me to be innocent, to ascribe ignorance to God. Go now and ply thy petty trade in the market, made of lifeless food; take the German Orpheus for thy master, and go celebrate, with all honour for the poisons of many written scrolls, see that now art is caught. Be warned of such pretenders, who hunt their prey with fine words, and all the while are doers of villainy. She is dead! Thinkest thou this will save thee? Why this condemned, forsaken wretch! What oaths, what reproaches can outweigh this letter, to make thee manifest thy shame? Thou wilt say that she hated thee, that the son born out of wedlock, and the wife born in wedlock, it seems, that by showing a sad bargain, she put an end to her life, to satisfy her hatred of him whom she loved most. There is no doubt that weakness finds no place in man, but is innate in woman. My experience is, young men are no safer than women when Venus excites a youthful breast; though her sex comes to help them. But why do I speak such words to you when before me lies the corpse, the clearest witness? Begone at once, an exile, from this land, and never come again to divine Berlin, nor to the borders of my dominion. For if I am so fierce as to submit to this treatment of thine, Störtebecker, the robber of the North Sea, will no longer bear me witness as I slay him, but say that my honour is idle, and the rocks of Helgoland that pierce the sea call me the scourge of God.
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
I know not how happy can any child of man be; for the first has turned and is now the last.
MILAN
Father, your anger and the tension of your mind are terrible; yet this charge, though its arguments appear, will become a calumny if exposed. Only a little skill have I in speaking to a multitude, but have a skilful mind for comrades of my age. Yes, and so it shall be; for those who despise the wise are better fitted to speak before the mob. But I am compelled, under the present circumstances, to break the silence. And at the outset I take the point which formed the basis of your surreptitious attack upon me, designed to imprison me out of court unheard. Do you see the sun, this mother earth? These bear witness to what you deny, my chastity surpasses all. To worship God I honour the highest knowledge, and to friends I take not those who practise iniquity, but such as would blush to propose a disgrace to their fellows, or to amuse them by shameful services; to mock friends is not my way, father, but I am still the same behind their backs as before their faces. The only crime you will blame me for is the one I have nothing to do with, for to this day I have kept myself pure from women. Nor do I know anything of them but what I hear and see in pictures, for I have not the least desire to look upon them with my pure soul. I do not give up my claim to chastity to convince you; well, then, it is for you to show the way in which I am corrupted. Did this woman, in the beauty of her whole sex, transgress propriety? Had she sought to fill the place of man after thee, and to follow thy house? That would certainly have made me a fool, a creature without reason. You will say: Her chaste husband loves her, sir. - No, no, I say, sovereignty pleases only those whose hearts are very corrupt. Now I would be the first and best ever at the games in Friesland, but the second in the state, forever happy with the noblest of my friends. For there one can be happy, and the absence of danger gives a charm beyond all the pleasures of princes. One thing I have not said, the rest you have said. If I had a testimony to confirm my purity, and were disappointed that I lived it still, the facts on the question would show who was the guilty party. And now, by the God of truth, and by the earth on which we stand, I swear to you, I never laid a hand on your wife, nor would I have had such a thought. Kill me, God! Deprive me of good name and honour, from house and city cast me out, a wandering exile over the earth! Neither sea nor land will preserve my bones if I am dead, if I am such an abuser of women! I cannot tell whether by fear she destroyed herself, for I forbid it. With her passion she exchanged chastity, while I, chaste, was not passionate in the use of that virtue.
LEADER
Thy oath by heaven, with strong certainty, Refutes charge enough.
TORSTEN
A wizard or magician must the fellow be, To think he could master me, his father, By coolness, my resolve to make.
MILAN
Father, your part in this fills me with surprise; had you been my son and I your father, by heaven, I would have killed you, not dismissed you with banishment, if you violated my honour.
TORSTEN
A simple remark! But thou shalt not die by the sentence thy own lips pronounce upon thee; for death, which comes in a moment, is an easy end to misery. Nay, thou shalt be banished from thy fatherland, and go into a foreign land, and lead a miserable life, for that is the wages of sin.
MILAN
Oh! What are you going to do? Wilt thou banish me without thus waiting for the proof of time in my case?
TORSTEN
Yes, beyond the sea, beyond the borders of the Alps, if I could, so deeply do I hate you.
MILAN
What, dost thou banish me untested, without testing my oath, the promise, and the voice of the seers?
TORSTEN
This letter here, though it bears no seer's mark, orders thy fall; as for birds that fly above our heads, a long farewell.
MILAN
Great God! Why will I not unstop my lips when I see me destroyed by thee, the object of my reverence? No, I will not; I should now confer what I should do, and for nothing should I swear the oath I have sworn?
TORSTEN
Fie on thee! This solemn manner of thine is more than I can bear. Get thee hence from thy fatherland at once!
MILAN
Whither shall I turn? Ah woe is me, whose friendly house led me in, now an exile over such a grave, an accused?
TORSTEN
Look for one who loves to entertain as guest and partner in his crime the corrupter of other men's wives.
MILAN
Ah woe is me! This wounds my heart and brings tears to my eyes, to think that I should appear so wicked, and you think I am so.
TORSTEN
Your tears and foresight would have been more in season when you undertook to outrage your father's wife.
MILAN
O house, I could speak for myself and testify, if I were so mean!
TORSTEN
Thou fleest to speechless witnesses? This deed, though it speak not, proves thy guilt plain.
MILAN
Alas! Could I stand and face myself, I should weep, seeing the woes I bear.
TORSTEN
Yes, this is thy character, to honour thyself far more than to honour with reverence thy parents, as thou shouldst.
MILAN
Unhappy mother! I son of sorrows! The heavens keep all friends from me, since I am born out of wedlock!
TORSTEN
Hey, servant, take him away! You heard my proclamation long ago Condemn him to exile.
MILAN
Whosoever of them shall lay a hand on me, repent; thou castest me out, when thy demon drives thee to move me from the land.
TORSTEN
I will, that be my word, which thou straight obeyest; no pity for thy exile steals into my heart.
(Torsten off into the palace. The central doors of the palace are closed).
MILAN
The sentence, it seems, is passed. Ah, misery! How well I know the truth, but know not to tell it! O daughter of Anna, dearest to me of all the heavenly, Partner, comrade in the chase, far from glorious Berlin I must flee. Adieu, city and country of Teut; Adieu, Friesland, my most joyous home, past which the spring of life passes; it is my last sight of you, Adieu! Come, my comrades in this land, young as I, greet me kindly and accompany me on, for never will you see a purer soul, for all my father's doubts.
(Milan leaves. Many friends follow him.)
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
The thoughts I have of God, as soon as he comes to my mind, Do much to soothe my grief, But though I cherish the secret hope Of a great guiding will, Yet I am at the questioning of fate And deeds of guilt with the sons of men; Change succeeds to change, and man's life Turns back and turns in endless unrest. To happiness I give this, I pray, in heaven's hand, A happy lot in life, and a soul free from pain; Opinions leave me not too precise nor too hollow; But, changing my habits lightly each morning as it comes, I may thus attain A life of bliss. For now my mind is no longer free from doubt, heedless sights greet my vision; for behold, I see the morning star of Berlin, the eye of Germany, driven from his father's fury to another land. Mourn, sand of the native, thou oak grove, where with his hounds he hunted the stag to death, and to Mary, the terrible queen! No more will he let his chariot of Venetian horsemen mount to fill the course with the prancing of his trained horses. No more in his father's house will he rouse the muse that never slept beneath his guitar strings; no hand crown the spotless one where the maiden Mary rests amid the depths of heaven; nor will our Frisian maidens try to win your love, now you are banished. While with tears at thy unhappy fate I bear much, all undeserved. Ah! unhappy mother, Anna Katharina, in vain thou hast brought him forth, it seems. I am angry with God! O thou mercy, why dost thou send from home this poor youth, guiltless sufferer, far from his native land?
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
But behold! I see a servant of Milan's, who is gazing with troubled eyes at the palace.
(Enter a messenger.)
MESSENGER
Ladies, where can I find Torsten, the Count of the Land? Please, tell me if you know; is he here in the palace?
LEADER
Behold! Himself he comes from the palace.
(Enter Torsten.)
MESSENGER
Torsten, I am the bearer of troubled tidings to thee and all the citizens who dwell in Berlin or in the borders of Friesland.
TORSTEN
How now? Has some strange calamity befallen these two regions?
MESSENGER
In a word, Milan is dead. It is true, a slender thread still connects him to the light of life.
TORSTEN
Who killed him? Did a man come to him with blows, whose wife, like mine, had suffered brutal violence?
MESSENGER
He died by those steeds that drew his chariot and by the curses you said, praying to your father, the Lord of hosts, to kill your son.
TORSTEN
O God and King Jesus, thou hast proved my descent by listening to my prayer! Tell how he perished; how fell the uplifted hand of righteousness, to smite the villain that dishonoureth me?
MESSENGER
Through the crashing waves on the shore we combed his horse's manes, weeping because one had come to say that Milan was banished from you hard and would never return to this land. Then he came and told us the same sad story on the beach, and with him was an innumerable crowd of friends who followed. At last he persevered in his lamentation and said: Why faintly rave about this sage? My father's commands must be obeyed, servants, my horses bring to the chariot, this is no longer my home. - Thereupon each of us calmed down, and before a man could say anything, we could have seen the horses standing by our master's side. Then he took the reins from the wagon, first placing his feet exactly in the indentations made for them. But first with outstretched arms he called upon God: O Jehovah, strike me dead now when I have sinned, and my father learn how, at least in death as in life, he deceives me not. - With that he took hold of the whip, and whipped all the horses one after another; while we, near his chariot, near the reins, with him on the road that leads straight to Denmark and Sweden, to keep ourselves upright. And just as we came to a desert spot, a strip of sand beyond the borders of the country, falling down to the German Bay, there was a deep crash, as it were an earthquake, fearful noise, and the horses drew in their heads and lifted up their ears, while we were filled with wild alarm, and wanted to know whence the sound came, when, staring at the undulating shore, we caught sight of a mighty wave rising into the sky, so that from our sight the rocks of Heligoland had disappeared, for they hid the headland and the rock Lange Anna; then it swelled and foamed with a crest of foam, the sea came to the beach where the towed wagon stood, and the moment it broke, that mighty wall of water, there came out of the waves a monstrous bull, whose roar filled the land with fearful echoes, a sight too terrible, it seemed to us who had experienced it. A panic seized the horses there and then, but our master, giving the horses his whole care, seized his reins with both hands, and tying them to his body, drew the reins as the sailor leads his oar; but the horses gnashed in the forged bit between their teeth, and carried him on wildly, regardless of the master's hand or their master's chariot. And often, as he took the leading reins and steered on soft ground, the bull showed himself in front, driving him back again, exasperated his team with terror; but when they ran against the rocks in their desperate career, he would stalk the wagon and hold his ground before them, till suddenly he struck the wheel against a stone, he agitated and the wagon ruined; then was gloomy confusion, axle and woe leaping into the air. While he tugged the poor youth, entangled in the reins, with a stubborn cudgel, his poor head shook against the rocks, his flesh torn, while he cried piteously, Stay, stay, my horses, which are my own. This is the hand that fed you at the manger. Destroy me not altogether, O happy curse of my Father! Will no one come and save me for all my virtues? - Now, though we wished to help, we were left far behind. At last, I know not how, he broke loose from the shapely reins that bound him, a faint breath of life was still in him; but the horses were gone, and that ugly bull, among the rocks, was I know not where. I am but a servant in thy house, it is true, O count, yet will I never believe so monstrous an accusation against thy son's character, no! If not the whole sex of the woman should hang themselves, or one fulfilled with writing on every tablet that grows in the forest, sure as I am of his sincerity.
LEADER OF THE CHOIR
Alas! new troubles come to plague us, nor is there escape from fate and necessity.
TORSTEN
My hatred for him who suffered so made me glad of your message, but out of consideration for God and Milan, because he is my son, I feel neither joy nor sorrow at his sufferings.
MESSENGER
But tell us, shall we bring the sacrifice hither, or how shall we fulfil thy wishes? Consider thyself; if thou wilt be schooled by me, thou wilt not treat thy son harshly in his sad affliction.
TORSTEN
Bring him hither, that when I see him face to face, he may deny he has spurned my wife's honour, and I may convict him by words and the visitation of heaven.
(Messenger off.)
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
Ah! Venus, thine is the white hand That guides the stubborn hearts of gods and men; Thine, and that attendant boy, Who, with plumage brightly painted, Flutters round his victims on wings of lightning. Across the land and borne low on golden wings, the little god of love hurries, vexes the heart and beguiles the senses of all he attacks, wild whelps bred in forests, monsters of the sea, creatures of this sun-warmed earth and man; thine, O Venus, thine alone is the sovereign power to rule them all!
(Enter the Virgin Mary, dressed as a huntress, with bow and arrows in quiver).
MARY
Torsten! Son of the Count of Oldenburg!
I command you to listen to me!
I am MARY, Anna's daughter.
Wretched man! How do you like it?
You killed your own son
In a sinful way!
You have heard your wife's false words
About things
That with your own eyes
Did not see.
But your sin is obvious.
How is it that you have not yet
With the deepest shame
In the darkest recesses
Of the earth?
Or you could be
Into a flying beast
And you would fly far away
From this crime.
There's no place for you in a life
That is lived by good men.
Listen to the nature of your misfortune, Torsten!
You will hear of great pain,
But it will give me no pleasure
To tell you.
I am come,
To tell you plainly, Torsten,
That your son's heart
Is free from all guilt
And that you must bury him with his spotless reputation
Must bury;
And to tell thee of thy wife's madness
Or perhaps the nobility to tell.
(Mary points to the image of Venus)
She was stung by the sting
Of this goddess,
A thing most hated by us,
Who rejoice in virginity,
And so she fell in love
With thy son Milan.
Then, when the poor woman
With her own will
Venus sought to conquer,
She was disturbed by her grandmother's plan...
By her grandmother's plan disturbed,
Who revealed the truth of her illness
To her son,
After she had forced him
To swear an oath.
But Milan did not think the grandmother's words
Were not right,
But being a virtuous man..,
He took her oath,
Though he had to bear your anger
Against him.
But your wife feared
That she would be questioned,
So she wrote this letter of lies
And so, by this deceit,
She destroyed your son,
By convincing you with her lies.
TORSTEN
Oh no!
MARY
Do the facts hurt you, Torsten?
Wait then, and here the rest of them.
They will hurt you even more.
Your father has given you a gift
Of three curses, Torsten.
Curses whose results are guaranteed.
You know that, don't you?
Now that you're the bad man,
You, Torsten, are determined
To use one of these curses
Against your own son,
rather than against an enemy of yours.
Your father, that is, God, the Lord of Hosts,
Has done what he had to do,
Because he loves you
And made thee the promise.
But, in his opinion and mine,
Thou hast done ill.
You did not examine the matter at all,
Nor asked the opinion of the prophets,
Nor even let time judge,
But hastened quickly,
To bring the deadly curses
On your son.
Torsten
Oh Madonna! May I also be destroyed!
MARY
Torsten, though you
Terrible sins you have committed,
There is still hope for you
To obtain pardon.
It was Venus who,
To complete her fury,
Wanted all this to happen.
Now the rule among us celestials is:
None of us will
Act against the will of another.
Instead, we will stand aside.
And understand this well, Torsten:
Had I not been afraid of God,
I would never have fallen into shame,
To see the mortal I loved the most
To see die.
You are acquitted of the charge..,
Of being evil,
Because you were ignorant
And because by her death thy wife
Has tested all hope in thee,
To test the truth of her words,
And thus she hath convinced thee.
Now then. These sorrows
Fall chiefly on thee, Torsten,
But I too feel the sorrow,
Because we, the celestials,
Find no pleasure in the death of the pious.
But as for sinners,
We destroy them
With their offspring and their houses.
(Enter Milan, badly wounded and supported by his servants).
CHOIR OF FRISIAN WOMEN
Ah! Here is the poor boy! Look how bruised and battered his young flesh is! And his fair head!Oh, mountain of sorrows fallen on these houses! The heavens have sent a double misery upon these palaces!
MILAN
Ah! Miserable fate! Unjust curses unjustly delivered by an unjust father! I am utterly destroyed! Oh, how my shattered body aches! Pain in my head! Shudders invade my brain! Stop, friends! Let my body rest! I am exhausted! Ah! What a wretched pain is this! Ah, these terrible horses! Terrible chariots! I fed them with my own hands! They have destroyed me! They have killed me! Ah! Gently, friends, gently! By God, I beg you, friends, to be gentle with my wounds! Who is here? Who is at my right hand? Gently, gently, men! Lift me gently. Evenly over my whole mutilated body, friends! Ah! Wretched man! A man falsely cursed by his father. O God! Do you see all this, God? Do you see this man, God? Do you see this God-fearing man, this chaste man, dying? I am destroyed! In vain have I spent my whole life working hard to respect all men. Ah! What pain is this! It spreads through my whole body! Ah! Wretched man! Pain torments this poor man and makes death come to cure him! Kill me, God! Kill this miserable man! How I wish a sharp sword, I wish to cut myself and bring my life to eternal rest! Oh, wretched curse! My father's curse! The curse and some blood-curdling evil, committed by my ancestors, long dead, the family, it could wait no longer, and has fallen upon me! Why, God? Why me? Why an innocent man?Ah! What is there for me to say to rid my life of this pain, this cruel catastrophe?
Oh, how I wish to be dead! How I wish that eternity's dark night, death's fate, would take me! To let this poor wretch sleep!
MARY
You poor man!
How terrible the catastrophe
With which thou art hunted!
But it was the nobility of thy spirit,
That brought you this destruction!
MILAN
Ah! a heavenly fragrance!
My goddess!
Though my misery be great,
I feel how your presence, dear woman,
Has soothed the pain of my body.
The Virgin Mary is here!
MARY
Yes, my poor husband.
The Virgin dear to your heart is here!
MILAN
Oh my dear wife!
Do you see the poor state I am in?
MARY
I know, Milan,
But the divine law forbids me
To shed tears.
MILAN
Ah, my mistress!
You no longer have your servant.
MARY
No, Milan,
But even though you die
You will still have my love.
MILAN
There is no one
Who will care for your statue,
My beautiful lady!
MARY
No, Milan,
Because this was the will of Venus.
MILAN
Ah! Now I know,
What power has killed me!
MARY
Her honour was assaulted,
And she hated your chastity, Milan.
MILAN
I can understand it now.
A power destroyed all three of them!
MARY
Yes, you and your father,
And your father's wife was the third.
MILAN
And so I groan
For my father's fate too!
MARY
Torsten was deceived by a demon.
MILAN
Poor father!
How terrible is his misfortune!
Torsten
This is the end for me, my son!
I have no more joy in life.
MILAN
You have made a mistake, Papa, and I grieve more for you than for myself.
TORSTEN
If only I could die in your place, my son!
MILAN
Oh, what bitterness the gifts of your God-father have!
TORSTEN
If only they had never reached my lips!
MILAN
But what then? Your anger was so great, Papa, that you would have killed me after all.
TORSTEN
Yes, my son. The demons drove my reason mad.
MILAN
Ah! If only mortals could curse the demons....
MARY
Leave it, Milan. For even in the darkness of the earth, where thou shalt lie buried, the wrath of Venus, which has fallen upon thee, thy chastity and thy virtue, shall be rewarded with great glory. Personally, I shall see that justice is done thee by me, shooting my arrow at another mortal, whoever is the dearest. And to you, poor suffering human being, for these pains you have endured, I give the highest glory in Germany. Unmarried girls cut off their hair before their wedding, and in the course of many years they will pour forth an abundance of tears of their sorrow for thee. Maidens will cherish you in their hearts forever, and they will sing about you and keep alive the memory of Evi's love for you. - But you, Torsten, now take your son Milan in your arms and hold him close to you. You are not responsible for his death, because it is only to be expected that people commit grave sins when the demons tempt them. - And you, Milan. I urge you not to hate your father because you know well the fate by which you were destroyed. And now I must go, because it is unjust for me to look upon the dead, or to pollute my eyes with the last breaths of the dying, and I see, poor man, you are already near this calamity. Farewell, Milan, goodbye!
(Mary goes up to heaven.)
MILAN
Farewell to you too, blessed Virgin! May you never forget our days together, and since you ask this of me, I will harbour no animosity towards my father. I have always done as you have asked of me. Ah! Ah! Papa, take my body and lay it straight. Darkness is coming over my eyes!
TORSTEN
My son, my poor son! What are you doing to me?
MILAN
Papa, I'm gone. I see the gates of heaven!
TORSTEN
Wilt thou leave me thus, my son, with my soul polluted, after I have shed thy blood?
MILAN
No, Papa. I have absolved you of all guilt in this murder.
TORSTEN
What did you say, son? Do you acquit me of murder?
MILAN
Let the Virgin Mary be my witness!
TORSTEN
My dear son! How generous you are to your father!
MILAN
Papa, say goodbye too, and may your life be full of joys!
TORSTEN
Oh, what a virtuous and brave soul!
MILAN
Then pray, Papa, that you will have sons like me.
TORSTEN
Take courage, my son! Don't leave me!
MILAN
My courage has left me, Papa. I am ready. Quick, now cover my face with my cloak!
(Milan dies. Torsten covers his son's face, and after a few moments of contemplation, he turns to the choir).
TORSTEN
Glorious land of Frisia and the Virgin Mary! You have lost a great man! And I, Venus! In my misery I will remember all the pain you have brought us!
(Torsten off.)
CHORUS
This unexpected grief has fallen on all the citizens. The tears will fall in floods for a long time, for the grief of the famous is mighty.
PART V
MILON
TRAGEDY
PERSONS:
Anna.
Milon.
Evelin.
Paul.
Young girls.
SCENE I
(Evelin, young girls.)
EVELIN
Double step, come down; don't hesitate too long, beautiful young ladies. Come in. Come in. Don't pay too much attention to your clothes and hair; when your task is done, the time will come to dress up. In the morning be alert at work.
A YOUNG GIRL
Here we are, and the others will follow later. We are awake for this feast; you see us ready to do what you command.
EVELIN
Well, make haste with me. Truly it is half joyful, half angry, that I call you to this day's service; for it brings a secret pain to our beloved mistress beneath the garb of joy.
THE YOUNG GIRL
Yes, and to us all too; for he leaves us today, the precious child to whom we have long been bound by the happiest habit. Say, how will the Queen make him suffer? Will she cold-bloodedly return this dear babe to her father?
EVELIN
Already the future troubles me. The old pain still lingers in her soul; the double loss of a son and a husband are wounds that still bleed. And if this child's pleasant company is interrupted, will she be able to resist her former suffering? While the spirits of the dead appear mostly to the lonely, the cold and sorrowful hand of grief touches and fills Anna with abandoned anguish. And to whom will she return this beloved child?
THE YOUNG GIRL
That is what I have been thinking of too. She never loved her husband's brother; his harshness kept her far from him. We never thought she would have kissed that brother's son, who was the object of a tender love.
EVELIN
If it were hers, then this day would reward her for all her motherly care! This beautiful child rises solemnly in the eyes of all, burning with impatience, from the lower circle of closely guarded childhood, to the first degree of happy youth: but Anna hardly enjoys it. A whole kingdom thanks her for her care, but alas! Sorrow only gains new access and nourishment in her bosom. For for the most difficult and noble efforts, man does not gather as much joy as nature easily gives with a single gift.
THE YOUNG GIRL
Ah! what beautiful days she had lived before happiness faded on her threshold; before it fled, delighted her husband, her son, and left her suddenly desolate!
EVELIN
Let us avoid renewing the memory of that time by such vivid complaints; let us cherish the goods that remained to her in the precious wealth of children, her near kin.
THE YOUNG GIRL
Do you call rich she who feeds strange children?
EVELIN
If they are well off, it is still a cause for joy. Yes, of course, she gets a nice compensation on the Frisian islands. Here, on this lonely shore, he grew up quickly by her side and now belongs to her through love and education. She now voluntarily leaves to this near relative that part of her father's kingdom which belonged to her son; she will even one day leave to him what she has inherited in lands and treasures from her own parents. She puts him in possession of all these riches and gently tries to console herself by doing good. It is better for the people to have but one master, I have often heard her say, and many other words with which she wishes to present the misfortune that has befallen her in a positive light.
THE YOUNG GIRL
I think I saw her today happy and with a calm eye.
EVELIN
It seemed so to me too. Oh! May the celestials keep their hearts in joy, for the happy are easier to serve!
THE YOUNG GIRL
If they are generous and pride has not hardened them.
EVELIN
As justice makes us judge our mistress well.
THE YOUNG GIRL
I saw them happy and the child even happier; the golden rays of the morning shone on their faces. Then a feeling of joy came to my heart to brighten the dark night of times past.
EVELIN
Let us not talk much like women when there is much to do. Joy must not harm service, which is more in demand today than at other times. Show your joy by the zeal with which each one is quick to do her work.
THE YOUNG GIRL
Areas, and we will not hesitate.
EVELIN
Our princess's heart has blossomed: I have noticed it. She wants her treasures, which were secretly reserved for the new generation, to show and shine now, saved to this day; she wants this feast to rest with dignity on cleanliness and beautiful order, as on two companions. What is entrusted to me I have spread out: now see to it that the rooms themselves are decorated; spread the embroidered carpets and cover the floor, the seats, the tables; distribute with discernment what is precious and what is not; prepare enough space for many guests and place in their place, for the pleasure of the eye, the goblets worked with art. Nor lack wine and food, as the princess wills, and I have watched over it: what is offered to strangers must be accompanied by grace and thoughtfulness. The men, I see, also have their orders; for chariots, weapons and tanks are set in motion to celebrate this feast.
THE YOUNG GIRL
We will go.
EVELIN
Good! Good! Good! I will follow you now: The sight of my prince leaves me alone again. He approaches radiantly, like the morning star. Let me first bless him, the one who seems like a new star of happiness, rising above a whole nation.
SCENE II
(Milon, Evelin.)
MILON
Art thou there, good and faithful friend, ever partaking of my joy? Behold what the dawn of this day brings me! She whom I love so well, to call her my mother, wants to dismiss me today with a thousand testimonies of her love. She gave me this bow and trembled richly fulfilled; her father had captured it from the Hungarians. Even in my early childhood, I liked this bow more than any other weapon hanging from the great pillars. I often asked for it, not with words: I took it from the pillar and let the nervous string tremble; then I looked with a smile at my dear relatives and turned around, delaying the drawing of the bow. Today my old wish is fulfilled: It is now mine; I will carry it with me when I accompany my father to the city.
EVELIN
It's a beautiful gift! It tells you a lot.
MILON
What is it? What is it?
EVELIN
The bow is big, hard to bend: If I'm not mistaken, you can't do it yet.
MILON
I will be able to soon.
EVELIN
That's what your good foster-mother thinks too. She trusts that one day you will know with a man's strength how to tighten the sinew against the revolutionaries; at the same time she gives you an opinion: She hopes that you will aim your arrows against a worthy target.
MILON
Oh! just let me do it! I have not yet shot the light deer, the feeble birds in modest flight; but if I can one day.... (O God, let it be soon!...) I will reach and drop the bold eagle from the clouds.
EVELIN
When you are far from your seas, your forests, where you have lived with us hitherto, will you still remember us and the first joys of your youth?
MILON
Are you so adamant? Wilt thou not come with me? Wilt thou not give me thy care any more?
EVELIN
You go where I cannot accompany you, and your next years already contain with difficulty the care of a woman; the tenderness of women feeds the child: the youth is better brought up by men.
MILON
Tell me, when will my father come to take me to his city today?
EVELIN
Not until the sun rises to the top of the sky: the dawning day has awakened you.
MILON
I was not asleep, I was only slumbering. I felt turbulent movements in my soul, shaken by all that I have to face today.
EVELIN
As you desire, you are also desired; for the eyes of all the citizens call for you.
MILON
Look, I know that the gifts that come to me today from my father are prepared. Knowest thou what the messengers bring me?
EVELIN
Above all, I think how he on whom the eyes of the multitude are fixed must bear it, that his eyes, which do not penetrate within, may feed from without.
MILON
I hope for something else, my dear!
EVELIN
With ornaments and rich jewels your father will not be stingy today!
MILON
I will not despise these things when they come; but you presume as if I were a girl. It is a horse that will come, tall, brave, and swift; what I have so long desired I will have, and I will have it for myself. The great advantage I have had indeed! I used to ride sometimes with this one, sometimes with that one: it was not mine! And at my side an old servant who was always trembling!... I wanted to run to the horse, and he wanted me to be safe at home. I only loved to hunt with the Duchess; but I could see that if she had been alone she would have galloped harder, and I too would have liked to be alone. No, this horse, it will remain mine; I will use it to my heart's content. I hope the animal will be young, ardent and fiery: to train it myself would be a great joy to me.
EVELIN
I hope we have thought about your pleasure and at the same time about your safety.
MILON
Man seeks pleasure in danger, and soon I want to be a manh. I can easily guess that a sword is still brought to me, a bigger one than the one I was armed with in the hunt: a battle sword. It bends like a reed and cuts a strong branch at once. It even pierces the iron, leaving no trace of a break at the edge. The hilt is adorned with a golden dragon, and chains hang around its mouth as if a hero had defeated it, chained it in a dark cave and dragged it tamed into the light of day. I will soon try the blade in the next forest; there I will split and fell the trees.
EVELIN
With this courage you will defeat the enemy. That thou mayest be a friend to thy friends, May grace put in thy heart a spark of fire, Which with her ever-pure hands lay on the heavenly altar, And burn at the feet of Jehovah!
MILON
I want to be a faithful friend; I want to share what comes from God, and when I have all that enchants me, I want to give it all willingly to everyone else.
EVELIN
Goodbye now! You have died for me very quickly these days! Extinguish a flame that has seized the funeral pyre, time devours the elderly faster than youth.
MILON
So let me hasten to do glorious things.
EVELIN
May God give you the opportunity and the high ability to distinguish clearly what is glorious from what seems glorified!
MILON
What are you trying to tell me? I can't understand it.
EVELIN
Words, however many, would not explain this prayer: For it is a wish and a prayer more than a lesson. I give it to you this day to escort. You have travelled, you have played, you have walked the first paths, and now you walk the wider path. Always follow those who have experience. I would be of no use to you and would only lead you astray if, as soon as I entered, I also wanted to describe to you exactly the distant places to which you are to travel. The best advice I can give you is to follow the right advice and respect age.
MILON
I will do it.
EVELIN
Ask God for companions, the good and the wise. Do not insult happiness with folly and pride. It is true that it favours the defects of youth, but as the years go by it demands more.
MILON
Yes, I have much faith in you, and your mistress, wise as she is, has, I know also, much faith in you. She has often asked you about various subjects, though you have not answered her immediately.
EVELIN
One who grows old with princes learns much, learns to keep many things secret.
MILON
That I would gladly stay with you until the day when I would be as wise as I should be not to fail!
EVELIN
If you thought of yourself as such, there would be more danger. A prince should not be raised in solitude. Alone we do not learn to command ourselves, let alone others.
MILON
Do not withhold advice from me in the future!
EVELIN
You will have it if you ask me for it; and even without asking, if you can hear it.
MILON
When I sat before thee by the fire, and thou toldst me of the deeds of old; when thou praisedst a good man; when thou exaltedst the worth of a noble heart; I felt a fire flowing through my marrow and in my veins; I said in the depths of my soul, Oh, would I were the man of whom she thus speaks!
EVELIN
Oh! Can you rise with equal passion to the height that is accessible? That is the best wish I can make you with this farewell kiss. Dear child, be happy!... I see the Duchess approaching.
SCENE III.
(Milon, Anna, Evelin.)
ANNA
I find you here in friendly conversation.
EVELIN
The separation invites us to renew the bond of friendship.
MILON
Evelin is dear to my heart: leaving her will be painful.
ANNA
Today you will experience the most beautiful reception: You'll finally experience what you've been missing.
EVELIN
Hey, do you have a few more orders to give? I'm entering the palace, where many things need to be supervised.
ANNA
I have nothing to say, Evelin, nothing for today. For all I ever have to do is approve of what you do.
SCENE IV
(Anna, Milon.)
ANNA
And you, my son, be happy in the life that awaits you! As vividly as I love you, I part from you contentedly and calmly. I was already ready to part with my own son, to fulfil with my tender motherly hands the stern duty. To this day you have followed the one who loved you: Go now, learn to obey, learn to command.
MILON
I give you a thousand graces, O best of mothers!
ANNA
Reward thy father, who in his kindness gave me the charming sight of thy early years, and joined me to the sweet enjoyment of thy amiable youth, my only consolation when fate had so cruelly wounded me.
MILON
I have often complained to you; often have my fervent wishes wished for you a son, for me a cousin. What a companion I would have had in him!
ANNA
He was not much older than you. At the same time, the two mothers promised the two brothers an heir. You grew up; a new light of hope illuminated the old house of ancestors and shone on the vast duchy, a common heritage; a new desire was awakened in the two dukes to live, to rule wisely and to wage war with strength.
MILON
In the past they often led their armies on the field; why not today? My father's arms have long been at rest.
ANNA
The young man fights for the old man to come. Then he shared with my husband to repel the enemies across the sea; he brought havoc to their cities: like a young god. Jealousy waited treacherously for him and all the treasures of my life. With joyful passion he took over his army; he left his dear son at his mother's breasts. Where did the child seem safer than where God himself had placed him? There it was when he left it and said to it: Grow up and prosper, and come, stammer your first words, try yourfirst steps, at the threshold, meet your father, who will soon return happy and victorious! - It was a useless wish.
MILON
Your pain grips me, like the passion that shines within you. Your eyes can set me on fire.
ANNA
He fell in the course of his victory, overcome by a treacherous ambush. Then my burning tears bathed my bosom by day, my lonely bed by night. To press my son in my arms to weep over him was the relief of my misery; and he too saw the father torn from my heart!... I could not bear it, I could not bear it yet.
MILON
Don't give in to pain and allow me to be something for you too.
ANNA
O a woman is short-sighted, who in this way destroys all your hopes!
MILON
Why blame yourself when you are not guilty?
ANNA
For slight negligence we often pay too much. I received news after news from my mother; she called me and invited me to ease my pain with her. She wanted to see my son, who was also the comfort of her old age. The stories and conversations, the retelling and remembrance of times past were then to weaken the deep impression of my suffering. I allowed myself to be persuaded and left.
MILON
Tell me the place, tell me where the adventure took place.
ANNA
You know the islands that can be seen from the land: There I go my way. The area seemed to be completely cleared of enemies and pirates. Only a few servants accompanied me, and a woman was at my side. At the entrance to the harbour rises a rock; an old oak surrounds it with its strong branches, and from its side flows a clear spring. There the servants stopped in the shade; they watered the unhitched horses as usual and dispersed them. One searched for the honey distilled in the forest to restore us; another kept the horses near the spring; the third shook a fresh fan of twigs. Suddenly they hear the farthest cries; the next comes up, and a fight begins between my unarmed servants and brave and well-armed men who come out of the forest. My faithful fall in vigorous defence; the coachman himself, seized with horror, lets the horses escape and stubbornly resists the violence with stones. We flee, then stop. The buccaneers think they can easily take my child, but the fight is hard. We fight with fury and defend this treasure. I embrace my son with the indissoluble bonds of maternal arms. My partner, screaming terribly, stops the violence with her quick hands. Finally, hit deliberately or accidentally by a sword, I don't know, I fall unconscious to the ground; I let the child escape from my lap with feeling, and my partner falls badly injured.
MILON
Oh! Why are we children! Why are we so far away when such help is needed? My fists are clenched by this story. I hear the women screaming: Help! Revenge! - Isn't it true, my mother, that whom God loves, he leads to the place where he is needed?
ANNA
Danger seeks the noble heart, and the noble heart seeks danger; so they must meet. Alas! and danger surprises even the weak, who have nothing left but the cries of despair. So we were found by the fishermen of the island; they dressed my wounds; their careful hands brought me back from dying; I came back and lived. With what horror I entered my home, where pain and grief sat at home! The opulent ducal house seemed to me consumed and ravaged by the enemy, and my suffering is still.
MILON
Did you ever find out if it was a traitor, an enemy, who did this?
ANNA
Your father suddenly sent messengers from all sides; he showed the coasts to the armed people; but it was in vain, and little by little, as I healed, the pain became more cruel, and an indomitable anger seized me. I pursued the traitors with the weapons of the weak: I called down thunder, I called upon the waves, I called upon the dangers which, to still great mischief, come upon the earth. O God, I cried, take with thy righteous hands Death, who walks blindly and without law upon the sea and the earth, and pushes them before him whithersoever he carries his steps! Either he returns from a feast with his crowned head and his merry companions; or he crosses the threshold of his house, heavily laden with booty; let fate show itself to him, with motionless gaze, and seize him! - The curse was the voice of my soul, the curse the language of my lips.
MILON
Oh, how happy it would be, whatever the celestials would give to fulfil the ardent desires of your rage!
ANNA
Well, my son! Learn my fate in a few words, for it will be yours. Your father received me well; but first I felt that I now lived in his dominion, and that I would be obliged in his favour for what he would give me; I soon went to my mother and lived quietly with her until the day God called her to Himself. Then I became mistress of what she and my father had left me. I searched needlessly for news of my lost lilies. How many strangers came and gave me false hopes! I was always ready to believe the last one. He was dressed and fed, and in the end he lied like the first. My wealth attracted suitors; many came from far and near to besiege me. My inclination led me to live alone, with passion to be joined to the shadows of the realm of the dead; but necessity commanded me to choose the most powerful, because a woman alone has little power. To speak with your father, I went to his city. I confess to you that I never loved him; but I could always bind myself to his care. There I found you, and at first sight I devoted my whole soul to you.
MILON
I can still remember how you came. I threw the ball I was playing with far away and ran to think about the belt of your dress, and I didn't want to part with you when you showed it to me and showed it again and let me know the animals that intertwine on it. It was beautiful work, and I still like to see it.
ANNA
Then I spoke to myself, looking at you as I had taken you on my knees: this was the image that my desires, anticipating the future, had taken up in my house; it is a child like this that I have often seen, in thought, near the fireplace, on the old seat of my ancestors; so I hoped to lead him, to guide him, to instruct him by answering his living questions.
MILON
It's about what you gave me, what you did for me.
ANNA
Here it is! my heart said to me as I pressed your forehead with my caressing hands and kissed your beloved eyes with passion. Here it is! He does not belong to you, but to your family; and when God has heard your prayer and formed him from the scattered stones of the earth, he will be yours and the child of your heart; he is the son your heart desired.
MILON
I have not left you since.
ANNA
You soon knew and loved the one who loved you. Your guard came to make you sleep, at the usual time. Furious to follow him, you embraced each other or even my neck with both arms, and you could not break away from my bosom.
MILON
I still remember my joy when you took me, and oh, when you left.
ANNA
Your father was hard to persuade. I made many attempts for a long time; I promised to keep you as my own son. Leave the child to me, I said, until youth calls him to a serious life. May it be the object of all my wishes; I will refuse my hand to the stranger, whoever he may be; I will live and die in widowhood. May my inheritance be to thy son a fair portion of what he has. - So thy father was silent and thought about the interest. Then I cried out: Take the islands without delay; take them in pledge. Strengthen your duchy; protect mine; keep it for your son. - He finally decided, for ambition has always dominated him, as has the desire to lead.
MILON
Oh! do not judge him: to be like the angels is the desire of great hearts.
ANNA
From then on you were mine. Often I have reproached myself for feeling in you and through you a softening of my terrible loss. I nurtured you; love, but also hope, binds me firmly to you.
MILON
Oh! May I fulfil your expectations?
ANNA
It is not this hope that crowns our heads with spring flowers in the harsh winter; that smiles at the lush fruits before the blossoming trees: no, misfortune had transformed my desires in my womb and awakened in me the immense desire for destruction.
MILON
Hide nothing from me. Speak: so that I may know everything!
ANNA
It's time, you can know: listen. I watched you grow up, and I silently observed the dynamism and beautiful energy of your naive affection. Then I cried out: yes, he was born for me! In him I find the avenger of the crime that ruined my life.
MILON
Yes! I will not rest until I discover the culprit, and the furious, unbridled vengeance is unleashed with memory on his criminal head.
ANNA
I want your promise, your serenity. I lead thee to the altar of the god of this house. This god gave thee happy growth; he rests, he bows down, near the deprived house, and hears us.
MILON
I honour him and would gladly offer him the simple gifts of recognition.
ANNA
A deep pity enters the charitable hearts of the angels when the last flame of the fireplace they had long protected goes out. No new family makes a fiercely nourished flame shine in the house; in vain, with a heavenly breath, they light the smoking remnant: the ashes are scattered in the air; the embers are extinguished. Bound with mortal pains, they gaze upon thee, their heads bow, and they do not resist denying me when I call to thee: Here, on this peaceful altar, where blood never flowed, promise, curse vengeance!
MILON
Here I am! What you ask, I will gladly do.
ANNA
Tirelessly vengeance comes and goes; it spreads its servants to the ends of the inhabited earth to threaten the bent head of the guilty. It penetrates even into the deserts to seek if there be no hiding place for a criminal in the last caves; it wanders here and there and passes before him before it reaches him. From his heart the secret trembling descends, And the evil country way with anguish From palaces to church, From churches under the wide sky, As a troubled patient changes his bed. The whisper of the sweet morning breezes in the branches seems to threaten him; often she leans from the bosom of the clouds to his head and does not strike him; often she turns away from the trembling offender who has the sense of his crime. In her uncertain flight she returns and meets his gaze. Before her imposing, compelling eye, the cowardly heart, throbbing with painful spasms, contracts in the breast, and the warm blood flows from the limbs into the chest, where it freezes and congeals. Thus, if God will grant it to me one day, when they point their terrible finger at you, you may, with menacing brow, show yourself to this evildoer! Count slowly on his bald head my years of suffering. May pity, forbearance and compassion for human pain, companions of good princes, draw far away and hide, even if you wish, you shall not grasp their hands. Touch the holy altar and curse to fulfil the full extent of my vows.
MILON
With all my heart... I swear it!
ANNA
But let him not alone be doomed to die by your hand: even his own, who around him and after him strengthen his earthly happiness, you will make to be but shadows of hell. When he hath long since descended into the grave, lead his children and grandchildren to his forsaken grave: there shalt thou shed their blood, that, when it flows, it may draw up his shadow to the shed; that he may feed upon them in darkness, and that at last this company, dying indignantly, may awake in a tumult. May the terror on earth spread to all the secret traitors who think they find peace in their hiding places! May none of them avert their eyes from the bosom of torment and worry about the peaceful roof of their quiet house! Let none look hopefully at the door of the grave, which opens of its own accord for all once, and therefore, immovable, more inflexible than molten brass, separate joys and sorrows from him forever! When he blesses his sons by dying, Let the last movement of life in his hand cease, And let him tremble to touch the moving curls Of those beloved heads! By this cold, solid, holy stone of the altar, swear to fulfil the full extent of my desires!
MILON
My heart was still free from revenge and anger, for I felt no injustice; if there were slight quarrels in our games, peace was still easily made before evening: thou hast kindled in me what I never felt; thou hast entrusted to my heart a heavy treasure; thou hast raised me to the lofty dignity of the hero, that now I may begin life with a harder walk, and know what I must do. Yea, I swear to thee, in this holy place, by the first and most faithful oath of my lips, to consecrate to thee and to thy service the first and most ardent wrath of my heart forever.
ANNA
Let me, my faithful one, stamp with this tender kiss the seal of all my desires upon thy brow. And now I go before the high gate To the sacred spring that bubbles from the mysterious stone And bathes the foot of my ancient walls. I shall be back in a moment.
SCENE V
(Milon alone.)
MILON
I feel a desire to see what her destination is. She thinks, she stops before the clear and bubbling wave and seems to meditate; she washes her hands carefully, then her arms; she bathes her forehead, her breasts; she lifts her eyes to heaven; she gathers the fresh water in the palm of her hand and pours it solemnly three times over the earth. What consecration does she want to effect? She directs her steps to the threshold: she comes.
SCENE VI
(Anna, Milan.)
ANNA
I want to thank you again, with a feeling of joy and delight.
MILON
And why?
ANNA
Because you have freed me from the burden of my life.
MILON
Me? Me?
ANNA
Hatred is a heavy burden: it presses the heart to the bottom of the breast, and like a tombstone it weighs heavily on all joys. Not only in adversity is the pure, pleasant ray of joyful love the only consolation: when it wraps itself in clouds, alas, the floating robe of happiness and joy does not shine with joyful colours. As into the hands of God I have placed my pain in your hands, and I rise quietly and above prayer. I washed from impure contact with vengeful rage; the wave that cleanses all carries that stain away; a mysterious seed of peaceful hope rises as it soars over the redeemed earth, and looks timidly at the light that colours it with green.
MILON
Give me your confidence! You must not hide anything from me.
ANNA
Is he still among the living, whom I have long wept for, as if he had descended to the dead?
MILON
Thrice welcome, as we may please!
ANNA
Speak; be sincere! Can you promise that he lives, that he will come back and show himself to us, that you will willingly give him back the half that is his?
MILON
With all my heart.
ANNA
Your father swore to me too.
MILON
And I promise and swear by your consecrated and sacred hands.
ANNA
And I receive for the absent your oath, your promise.
MILON
Tell me, however, by what sign shall I know him?
ANNA
How God will bring him, what testimony he will give him, I know not: but remember that at the time the pirates took him from me, a small gold chain, elegantly twisted three times, was hung around his neck, and on the chain was artistically engraved an image of the Virgin Mary.
MILON
I will remember that.
ANNA
I can give you another sign, hard to imitate, and a completely irrefutable testimony of kinship.
MILON
Tell me clearly.
ANNA
He wears a brown mark on his neck, as I also noticed on you with a joyful surprise. From your grandfather this mark was passed on to the two grandsons, who remained invisible to both fathers. Beware of it and carefully observe this sure sign of native virtue.
MILON
No one can rise against it and deceive me.
ANNA
May it be more beautiful to thee than the goal of vengeance, this glimpse of thy race's last need! Goodbye! Goodbye! A hundred times I repeat what I say with regret for the last time, and yet I must leave you, dear child. The secret and deep contemplation of your future destiny hovers, like a goddess, between joy and pain. No one enters this world for which none of us cares much, and like the great ones, with great measure. But life overcomes all when love is in its balance. As long as I know that you are on earth, that your eye sees the sweet light of the sun, and that your voice resounds in the ear of a friend, though you are far from me, nothing will take away my happiness. May you prolong your journey, so that one day, united with my beloved shadow, I may gladly wait long for you, and that God may give you someone who will love you as I love you! Come on, many words are of no use to those who part. Let us reserve for the future the pains of the future, and may this day of a new life be joyful for thee. The messengers the Duke sends us will not be long in coming. They will come soon, and I am waiting for him too. Come, let us receive them and join with the gifts and thoughts they bring.
ACT II
SCENE I
(Paul alone.)
PAUL
I come from a city of expectations, unhappy servant to a happy master. He sends me in advance with many gifts to his son, and he will follow in my footsteps in a few hours. Soon I shall see the face of a happy child; but I shall raise my voice only with the pretence of joining myself to universal joy; I shall hide myself under joyous extremely mysterious pains. For here, after an ancient betrayal, I bear a living ulcer, which consumes in my womb the flourishing life that nourishes all my powers. A duke should have no one as an accomplice to his bold endeavours. What he does to acquire and consolidate what may be appropriate for a duchy and a wreath is, in the instrument, mild treachery. And yet they love treason and hate the traitor. Woe to him! Their favour plunges us into drunkenness, and we are easily in the habit of forgetting what we owe to our own dignity. The favour seems so dear that we value our personal worth far too little in return. We feel connected to an action that was foreign to our heart; we believe that we are connected and that we are slaves. On our backs the rider strikes as on the horse, and he flies to his destination before we have lifted our anxious faces from the ground. The terrible secret is that I lock with my lips. If I reveal it, I am a double traitor; if I conceal it, the most shameful treachery is triumphant. Companion of all my life, silent secret, wilt thou at this moment take thy mighty and soft finger from my mouth? Should let a secret I guard like a painful enemy escape from my heart and breathe into the air like another indifferent word? You are cruel and kind to me, Conscience: Thou strengthenest me by tormenting me. But the time of maturity will soon come for you. I still doubt, and how painful doubt is, when our fate depends on resolution! O God, give me a sign! Loose my tongue, or bind it, as thou wilt.
SCENE II
(Milon, Paul.)
MILON
Welcome, Paul, long known to me for your gentleness and complacency; be the very welcome one today! Oh! tell me, what news dost thou bring me? Will he come soon? Where are yours? Where are the servants of the duke? Canst thou tell me what this day holds for me?
PAUL
My dear prince! How? Do you recognise your old friend at once? And I have to say to myself after the brief absence of a year: is it him? Is it really him? - Age ceases like an old tree which, if it does not dry up, always looks the same; but you, dear child, every spring develops new charms on your dear face. We want you to remain as you are and always enjoy what you are becoming. Soon the messengers will come for whom you are rightly waiting; they will bring you gifts from your Father worthy of you and of this day.
MILON
I apologise for my impatience. I have not been able to sleep for many nights. Several times already in the morning I have walked to the beach and I look around me, and I look at the plain as if I see those who are to come, and I know that they have not yet arrived. Now that they are ready, I don't want them to, and I will meet them. Can you hear the horses' footsteps? Can you hear the cry?
PAUL
Not yet, my prince; I have left them far behind.
MILON
Tell me, is it beautiful, the horse that is to carry me today?
PAUL
It is a white horse, wise and bright as light.
MILON
A white horse, you say? Do you want me to believe you? Do I have to tell you? I'd rather have a black one.
PAUL
You can have it if you ask for it.
MILON
A dark horse attacks the ground with much more fire. For if I am to be loved, he must be forced to be held behind others; he must have no rider before him; he must mount before the waving flags; he must have no fear of the lowered spears, and he must answer the trumpet with a quick neigh.
PAUL
I can see, my prince, that I was right and knew you well. Thy father was undecided what to send thee. O master, I said to him, do not worry; there are plenty of festive clothes and ornaments here: All you have to do is to send him plenty of weapons and old swords. If he cannot manage them today, hope will make his heart beat faster, and his future strength will shudder in his young hand in advance.
MILON
Oh! what joy! O days long awaited! Day of joy! And to thee, my old friend, how I thank thee! How shall I reward thee for taking care of me according to my wishes?
PAUL
It depends on your doing good to me and to many people.
MILON
Speak, is this the truth? Will I have all this? And will they bring me all this?
PAUL
Yes, and more.
MILON
More than that?
PAUL
Much more. They bring you what gold cannot buy, what the strongest sword cannot conquer; that treasure no one likes to give up, and the proud and the tyrant feed on its shadow.
MILON
Oh! Tell me this treasure and do not leave me hanging before this riddle!
PAUL
The noble youths, the children who come to meet you today, bring you devoted hearts, full of hope and confidence, and their joyful faces are the portents of a thousand and a thousand others who await you.
MILON
Are people already racing through the streets?
PAUL
Everyone forgets his things, his work, and the most casual is aloof: He has only an urgent need to see you, and everyone by now thinks he is celebrating for the second time the happy day that gave you life.
MILON
With what joy I shall meet these happy friends!
PAUL
Oh! May their eyes penetrate the depths of your soul! For such a gaze is not on others, not even on the Duke. What the old man loves to tell of the good old days, What the young man dreams for himself in the future, The hope of weaving the fairest crown, She keeps, as a promise, at the set goal for her days.
MILON
You must love and honour me as you did my father.
PAUL
They'll gladly promise you more. An old duke suppresses in hearts the hopes of men, and binds them with chains; but the appearance of a new prince gives impetus to long-contained vows; they burst with intoxication! We enjoy it excessively, breathing madly or wisely, relaxed after a painful restraint!
MILON
I would ask my father to distribute to the people bread and wine, and of his flocks that part which he can easily dispense with.
PAUL
He will gladly do so. Let the day, which God can grant us only once in a lifetime, be highly praised by all! It is so rare that people's hearts open together! Everyone cares only for himself. Madness and anger inflame a people much faster than love and joy. You will see the fathers lay their hands on the heads of their sons and tell them when they proclaim you: Behold! He comes forward! - The adults look upon the inferior as an equal; the slave confidently raises a joyful eye to his master; the offended greets with a smile the gaze of his adversary and invites him to gentle repentance, to the free and easy sharing of happiness. Thus the innocent hand of joy unites docile hearts, produces an artless feast, similar to the days of the golden age, when Adam still gently reigned like a beloved father on the new earth.
MILON
To how many comrades was I sent? Here I had three of them. We were good friends, often separated and soon reunited. Once I have a large number of them, we will come to know each other as friends and enemies, and we will imitate each other seriously in our games, guards, camps, surprises and battles. Do you know them? Are they good and self-sufficient comrades?
PAUL
Oh, if you had seen the hurrying crowd! How each offered his son, and how the young men offered themselves with eagerness! Of the noblest and best, twelve were chosen to surround thee and serve thee unceasingly.
MILON
But I could probably ask for more for the games?
PAUL
You will have them all at the first signal.
MILON
I will divide them, and the best will be on my side; I will lead them on unsurfaced paths, and if they run with speed they will crush the silent enemy.
PAUL
With this spirit, dear Prince, you will lead the children to the games of youth, and soon the whole nation to serious debates. Everyone feels behind you, everyone is driven by you. The young man keeps his fiery passion, and watches where your eyes command death or life; the experienced man willingly makes a mistake with you, and the old man himself renounces his hard-won prudence, and for affection for you he returns to life again with passion, yes, that grey head, you will see him at your side, against the shock of the enemy, and this breast can shed the last drops of his blood, for you will not be wrong.
MILON
What canst thou say? Oh! you will have no cause to repent. I shall surely be the first in danger, and I shall have the confidence of them all.
PAUL
Already the heavenly spirits have inspired it to a great extent for the young prince. It is easy and difficult for him to find his way.
MILON
No one will take it away from me: He who is brave must be with me.
PAUL
You will not rule only over happy people. In reduced secrecy the burden of misery and pain burdens many mortals. They seem to be rejected because happiness rejects them; but without being seen, they follow the man of courage in his ways, and their prayer enters the ear of God. Mysterious help is often rendered by the weak....
MILON
I hear, I hear the cries of joy and the sound of trumpets rising from the valley. Oh! let me run. They are coming! They are coming! They are coming! I want to walk this swift path before their footsteps. You, dear friend, follow the main road or, if you wish, stay here.
(He departs.)
SCENE III.
(Paul alone.)
PAUL
How flattering that already sounds pleasant to this child's ears! And yet the flattery of hope is innocent. If in a few days we must praise you for what we reject, we shall feel it more keenly. May he count himself lucky who spends his life far from the goods of this world! May he honour and fear God and thank Him in silence when His hands gently rule the people! God's suffering hardly touches him, and he can share God's joy immeasurably. Oh, woe is me! Twice today woe is me! Happy and handsome child, must you live? Must I chain the monster who can tear you in his abyss? Must the countess know what black sin your father has committed against her? Will you reward me if I am silent? Will a soundless fidelity be felt? What can I expect from you at my age? I will only be a burden to you. With a handshake on the way, you will think I am well pleased. You will be carried away by the stream of those who smell of you, but your father rules us with a heavy sceptre. Nay, if there be yet a sun upon me, I will that a terrible discord should unsettle the house, and when trouble comes with a thousand arms, then shall we feel again what we are worth, as in the troubles of former days; then shall we be brought like an old knife to the box, and the rust cleansed from its blade. O you, old mysteries and black assaults, leave your graves where you live imprisoned. The deadly guilt is not extinguished. Arise. Surround the throne with dark clouds that rest on graves. May terror pass like lightning through the heart of all! Turn joy into wrath! And that before the outstretched arms to seize them, hope is broken!