Fairy Tales Read online

such that dry dust never clouds it.

  So speak, such that when you speak

  it falls like dew upon our love.

  You’re quiet. What do you see there?

  Snow White:

  You do talk like a waterfall

  of silence, yet you’re not silent.

  Prince:

  What’s wrong, speak! You look so somber,

  so plaintive right down to your toes,

  as if you were searching for words

  that whisper love. Do not sulk there.

  Speak up when something troubles you.

  Unroll it just like a carpet

  on which we will merrily play.

  To dally in heartache does one good.

  Snow White:

  You talk forever and promise

  silence though. What are you saying,

  talking headlong on and on?

  Confidence is not so quick-tongued.

  Love fancies it soft and serene.

  O if you’re not devoted

  to my bliss in every sense,

  then say so. Say it, for you say

  unfaithfulness would talk away

  eagerly, talkative, so fast.

  Prince:

  Let us drop that.

  Snow White:

  Yes, let’s make small talk, be merry.

  Let us banish from love’s kingdom

  melancholy and dolefulness.

  Let’s jest and dance and cheer aloud.

  Why worry of the pain of now,

  which commands us to be silent!

  Well, what see you in the garden?

  Prince (looking out the window):

  Alas, what I see is fair and sweet

  to the naked eye that but sees.

  To feeling, which takes in this scene

  with its fine net, it is sacred.

  To intellect, which knows the past,

  it’s disgusting, a dirty flood

  of muddy water. Oh, it takes

  a twofold view, sweet and terrible,

  thoughtful and beautiful. Look there,

  with your own eyes, see for yourself.

  Snow White:

  No, say, what’s going on? Just tell me.

  From your lips then I could gather

  such a picture’s subtle detail.

  If you paint it, surely you will

  cleverly, prudently temper

  the view’s poignancy. Now, what goes?

  Rather than look, I’d rather hear.

  Prince:

  It is the most lovely passion

  that ever inflamed two lovers.

  The Queen kisses the Hunter’s lips,

  and he gives kiss after kiss back.

  They sit beneath the willow tree,

  whose long branches flutter downward

  on both their heads. The grass kisses

  the tangle of interlocked feet.

  The wood bench sighs under the press

  of their bodies making one body

  in the rapture of their embrace.

  O, so a tiger pair would mate

  in the jungle, far from the real world.

  The sweet bliss makes them one, tears them

  apart just to bring them closer

  all over again. I’m speechless,

  imageless at such an image.

  Will you see it and be speechless?

  Snow White:

  No, such a thing would disgust me.

  Come away from that filthy scene.

  Prince:

  The colors barely release me

  from its spell. It is a painting,

  and sweet love is its painter.

  O, how she lies down there, this Queen,

  being crushed inside his strong arms.

  How she cries from passion and how

  her beau smothers her with kisses,

  like one smothering a bowl of food,

  no, a sky, this mouth opening

  on heavenly passion itself.

  That rogue is utterly shameless.

  He thinks his green hunting jacket

  protects him from barbs. Here’s a barb,

  what seems to bewitch me up here.

  O, I’m furious. It’s this woman!

  Not this wretch. O, just that woman!

  Something does wrong to that crude wretch.

  Alas, this sweet, this sweet woman.—

  If I could only lose the sense

  of what I saw. Now I’m lost.

  A storm rages above it all,

  what is called love, wishes being called,

  but no longer. Go, everything.

  Snow White:

  Woe unto me that I must hear.

  Prince:

  Woe unto us that I must see.

  Snow White:

  O, how I long for nothing more

  than to be smiling and dead, dead.

  This I am too and always was.—

  I’ve never felt life’s seething storm.

  I feel as still as this soft snow

  that lies for a ray of sunlight

  that accepts it. I’m snow this way—

  and melt away with a warm breeze

  meant not for me but for the spring.

  Sweet is this seeping down. Dear earth,

  receive me unto your dwelling!

  The sun is too painful for me.

  Prince:

  Do I give you this terrible pain?

  Snow White:

  O no, not you. You could never!

  Prince:

  How lovely you are, how you laugh

  for me, come smiling! Don’t love me.

  I simply disturb your repose.

  O, to have left your coffin alone!

  How beautiful you lay therein,

  snow in a silent winter world.

  Snow White:

  Snow, always snow?

  Prince:

  Forgive me, you dear winter scene,

  you likeness of serene white calm.

  If I upset you, it happened

  only for love. Now this love turns

  away from you again weeping,

  toward the Queen. Please forgive this love

  for lifting you from that coffin,

  the glass one, wherein you lay

  with rosy cheeks, an open mouth,

  and this breath just like one alive,

  this picture to die for most sweet.

  I should have left it just like that,

  with love kneeling before you then.

  Snow White:

  Look, look! Now that I am alive

  you dump me like a dead body!

  How very strange you men all are.

  Prince:

  Rightly scold me. You’re being tender.

  Hate me and I’ll kneel before you.

  If you called me a rotten knave

  it would fit well. But let me now

  find that lovely Queen, for I wish

  to free her from a love unworthy.

  I beg of you, be very cross

  with me, indeed, be very mad.

  Snow White:

  Why then? Give me a reason why?

  Prince:

  Well, because I’m such a villain

  to run from you to another,

  she who excites his mind more now.

  Snow White:

  You are not a villain! Well, well—

  that mind, that mind of yours is more

  excited? What’s on your mind is so

  mindless. What a pack of dogs must

  excite your mind such that you flee

  like a terrified deer, the foe

  pursuing you. Well, so be it.

  So fly from me then to this stream

  with the better water to lap.

  I’ll remain, smiling, teasing you

  with my pale white hand outstretched,

  follow your flight with a gay voice

  that calls: Snow White shall wait for you.

  Come, knock on this
familiar door

  and laugh aloud. And then you turn

  your dear, faithful head to me

  begging me to just be quiet,

  for shouting serves no purpose.—Go!

  O go then, for I release you.

  And do commend me to my Queen.

  Prince:

  Commend you to the Queen? What for?

  Am I dreaming?

  Snow White:

  Well, am I not allowed to send

  my regards to Mommy with you,

  who’s down there in that shady park

  occupied with her needlework?

  She sews a token of her love—

  what do I care. I owe her love,

  and love sends its regards with you.

  Say, I forgive her. No, not that.

  Anyway, it doesn’t show well

  for a child to be on her knees

  and begging for me to forgive.

  You’ll be half love’s own already

  on your knees. Then say it like so,

  in passing, like sugared pastry,

  and pay heed when she nods so fair,

  when she’s choking with emotion

  and gives her hand for your hot kiss,

  which sends, you being so chivalrous,

  my forgiveness for this mistake.

  How impatient I am for word

  from my mother. So be quick, go!

  Prince:

  Snow White, I don’t understand you.

  Snow White:

  That has nothing to do with it.

  Go now, I beg of you. Leave this

  flower to herself that can only

  bloom in full in her solitude.

  For she was never meant for you;

  so calm down then. Depart, leave me

  to dream here, to close myself up

  as though some gaily colored plant.

  Go to this other flower, go,

  draw upon her sweeter fragrance.

  Prince:

  You should calm down. Just wait here.

  I shall bring the Queen back to you

  reconciled. I’ll look for her now

  down there in her shady garden

  and talk to that villain Hunter.

  No matter where and when and how,

  I’ll find him too. So until then,

  just remain calm and wait for us.

  Exits.

  Snow White:

  He’s filled with turmoil and counsels

  calm in me that in richer measure

  than his has possession of me.

  Everything goes the way it must.

  This untrue prince has done me wrong.

  But I’ll not cry, the same way

  I would not rejoice had I proof

  of his innermost love for me.

  Fury more than fury musters

  I cannot do, and who silently

  keeps silent chokes down fear, so

  this I will do. Oh my, here comes

  Mother herself and all alone.

  To the Queen, who enters.

  O kind mother, O forgive me.

  She throws herself at her feet.

  Queen:

  What is this for, my child? Get up.

  Snow White:

  No, on my knees like this for you.

  Queen:

  What’s with you, what makes you this way,

  what is trembling so in your breast?

  Stand up and tell me what is wrong.

  Snow White:

  Do not withdraw this gentle hand

  that I would cover with kisses.

  How much have I longed for its squeeze!

  A shyer plea for forgiveness

  has never been made as shyly

  as mine to you. Forget, forgive.

  Please be my merciful mother.

  Let me be your good little girl

  who clasps frightened to your body.

  O sweet hand, I had thought of you,

  you coming for my life, offering

  me the apple: something not true.

  Sin so fine is only contrived

  of recalling all kinds of things.

  My thinking is the only sin

  there is here. O please absolve me

  of the suspicion that wronged you.

  I only want to love, love you.

  Queen:

  What? Did I not send the Hunter?

  Did I not spur him on with kisses

  to you to do this great, great sin?

  You know that you’re not thinking right.

  Snow White:

  I just feel! A feeling thinks sharp.

  It knows every little detail

  of this matter. A feeling,

  far more noble than to recall,

  will think a situation through,

  but to forgive. And its judgment,

  which is devoid of all judgment,

  judges more severe, simply too.

  So I see nothing in thinking.

  It just speculates here and there,

  full of big airs and opinions,

  says this happened like so and keeps

  making petty condemnations.

  Away with the judge who but thinks!

  If he can’t feel, he must think small.

  His verdict makes a belly ache.

  It’s bland and drives the plaintiff mad.

  It absolves the sinner of sin,

  dropping the charges in one breath.

  Go and fetch me this other judge,

  that sweet, ignorant feeling. Hear

  what it says. Oh, it says nothing.

  It smiles, it kisses the sin dead,

  caresses it like its sister,

  chokes it with kisses. My feeling

  absolves you of all sin. It lies

  before you on beseeching knees

  and begs, calls me sinner, me who

  pleads so frightened for forgiveness.

  Queen:

  The poison apple I sent you;

  you took a bite, of course, and died.

  The dwarfs bore you in the coffin,

  the one of glass, until the kiss

  of the Prince brought you back to life.

  That is what happened, am I right?

  Snow White:

  All of it’s true up to the kiss.

  The defiling mouth of a man

  has never before kissed these lips.

  The Prince, and how he could kiss too—

  he had no hair upon his chin.

  He’s still a little boy, elsewise

  noble, but so very short, weak,

  like the body he’s trapped inside,

  small, like the mind he depends on.

  Of one prince’s kiss say nothing more

  of it, Mommy. The kiss is dead,

  for he never sensed the wetness

  on both sides of two moistened lips.

  What did I want to talk about?

  Ah, of sin, that stands on its knees,

  before you, of the dear sinner.

  Queen:

  No, that is wrong. You yourself tell

  fairy-tale lies. Surely it

  says that I am an evil queen,

  that I dispatched the Hunter to you,

  and gave you the apple to eat.

  Now answer me straight about this.

  Your begging me for forgiveness

  is just a joke, isn’t that right?

  All of this gesture and technique

  is rehearsed, a script cleverly

  practiced by you yourself. You have,

  as it turns out, only made me

  suspicious. What are you doing now?

  Snow White:

  Looking upon your kind, soft hand,

  seeing its beauty wondrously

  waking in a child a feeling

  almost totally extinguished.

  No, you are no sinner at all:

  where would you get this idea?

  Neither am I. We’re still spotless />
  of all guilt, immaculately

  watching an immaculate sky

  being as mild as it has been here.

  Once we did evil to ourselves.

  But that is far too long ago

  to remember. Now part for me,

  I beg you, those dear lips of yours.

  Tell me something very happy.

  Queen:

  I sent you off to die sparing

  not one kiss or caress on him,

  who followed you like a wild beast,

  hunting you through woods and fields

  until you fell down to the ground.

  Snow White:

  Ah, yes, I know the story well,

  about the apple, the coffin.

  Be so kind as to tell me more.

  Why does nothing else come to mind?

  Must you hang on to these details?

  Must you forever draw on them?

  Queen:

  With kisses, kisses I fired on

  the Hunter, my bloodthirsty man.

  O, how the kisses came raining

  like drops of dew upon that face

  swearing faith to me, harm to you.

  Snow White:

  Forget about it, my dear Queen.

  I beg you think no more of it.

  Do not roll your big eyes like that.

  Why do you shake? You’ve only

  been good to me all of your life,

  for which I’m utterly grateful.

  If love knew of a better word,

  then it might speak less awkwardly.

  Love is boundless for that reason.

  It knows to say nothing when it’s

  wholly enrapt in your being.

  Hate me so that I can but love

  more childlike, more wholeheartedly

  and lovingly by myself,

  for no other reason than that

  love is sweet and ambrosial

  to one who humbly offers it.

  Don’t you hate me?

  Queen:

  I hate myself much more than you.

  Once I did hate you, begrudging

  your beauty despite the whole world,

  for the whole world sang your praises,

  gave you homage while I, the Queen,

  was looked upon suspiciously.

  O did that make my blood boil.

  It turned me into this tigress.

  I didn’t see with my own eyes.

  I didn’t hear with my own ears.

  Unfounded hate but saw and heard,

  ate, dreamt, performed, and slept for me.

  I lay sadly upon my ear,

  doing what it did. That’s in the past.

  Hate now wants to love. And love hates

  itself for not loving harder.

  Why look, there comes the young Prince.

  Go, kiss him, call him your precious.

  Tell him I shall be nice to him

  despite his bitter words spoken

  in your favor. Go and tell him!

  The Prince enters.

  Prince:

  Fair Queen, I’ve been looking for you.

  Queen:

  Fair? This is a polite greeting.

  I do like you, Prince, Snow White’s half,

  to whom you wish to be married.