Fairy Tales Read online

Prince:

  Snow White wants not to be my bride.

  She says I’ve had a change of mind

  since lifting her from the coffin

  and leading her here. She is right

  to blame it all on you, Queen. To you

  I utterly devote myself.

  Queen:

  Where is this weak temperament,

  which like a reed shakes back and forth

  when the wind blows, going to take us?

  Prince:

  Where? I don’t really know where.

  But this I know only too well,

  that I am in love, and with whom?

  With you, with the Queen that you are.

  Queen:

  Such love, ah, that doesn’t suit me.

  This is too fast. Your behavior

  I find perfectly juvenile.

  Your mind is far too capricious,

  your nature too rash. Have patience

  and don’t tell me that you love me.

  In fact, you need to be scolding me

  still, Snow White’s half, she whom you seem

  to rather carelessly forget.

  Hey, Hunter.

  Prince:

  What of that villain?

  Queen:

  He’s no villain. In hunter’s clothes,

  he equals ten thousand princes.

  Don’t be a hothead. Think of who’s

  present when you stir up your storm.

  To the Hunter, who appears.

  Oh, there you are.

  Hunter:

  What’s your bidding?

  Queen:

  As though it were real, reenact

  that scene of Snow White’s distress

  that she had in the forest here.

  Do so as though you wished to kill.

  You, girl, beg as though you mean it.

  Me and the Prince, we will just watch

  and critique if you play your roles

  too lightly. Now then, let’s begin!

  Hunter:

  Snow White, come, I’m going to kill you.

  Snow White:

  Oh, like it happened that quickly.

  First draw your dagger. I’m not scared

  at all of your proud booming voice.

  Why do you want to strangle me,

  this life you see here, who never

  caused you injury or insult?

  Hunter:

  The Queen hates you. She bid me here

  to kill. Ferociously she drove

  me to it with her sweet kisses.

  Queen:

  Ha, ha, with kisses, ha, ha, ha.

  Snow White:

  Is anything amiss, dear Queen?

  Queen:

  Nothing, play on. You’re doing just fine.

  Prince:

  The villain does the villain’s role

  like second nature. It fits him

  as tight as his hunter’s costume.

  Queen:

  Prince, Prince!

  Hunter (to Snow White):

  Now then, prepare yourself to die.

  Don’t give me any trouble, please.

  You’re just sand in the Queen’s eyes.

  You must leave this beautiful world.

  This she wills, this she bid me do.

  Be done! Why are you drawing back?

  Snow White:

  Can’t I fight off this brazen death

  when it’s grabbing me by my throat?

  Are you death, O hard-hearted man!

  I don’t believe it. You look kind.

  A sweet nature dwells on your brows.

  You kill animals, not people

  who’re not your open enemy.

  I do see this. Mercy makes you

  put the knife back. Thank you, thank you!

  Would but the Queen have your nature.

  Queen:

  So? Really? You’re dead serious.

  Do you forget and speak the truth?—

  Then, Hunter, please step from this role.

  It’s unbefitting such a man.

  Run the evil whore through, right now.

  For the entire afternoon

  she’s been hectoring me with her

  two-faced blathering. O slay her.

  Bring that lying heart of hers here

  and lay it down at your Queen’s feet.

  The Hunter points his dagger at Snow White.

  Prince:

  What, what is going on? Snow White, run.

  Stop that you, you villain. O Queen,

  what a snake you are after all.

  Queen (laughing at the Hunter while stopping his arm):

  All of this is only a game.

  Come into the garden. Spring air,

  rising, falling in the park’s shade,

  chatting along the graveled path,

  is the bickering’s happy end.

  I must be a snake in your eyes,

  nothing but evil. No matter,

  for the next hour will prove to you

  that I am not. Snow White, come.

  Prince, if you will allow me now,

  I shall call her my dear child.

  We were just pretending before!

  Trust me, and you played your parts well.

  That was just for fun, a dagger

  waved around in a hunter’s hand.

  So he’s the villain—ha, ha, ha.

  Come, come all into the garden.

  Prince:

  But I still don’t quite trust you yet.

  Queen:

  Come, little rabbit prince! Come too,

  Hunter. Laughter will lead the way.

  Hunter:

  Indeed, my Queen.

  They exit.

  Change of scene. A garden like the one in the first scene. The Queen and Snow White enter.

  Queen:

  You lament again as before,

  are bitter, and give me this sad look.

  Why such a change without a word?

  You know I don’t hold any grudge.

  You have no reason to be sad.

  Once more the Prince has turned to you

  in love anew and yet you sulk

  and don’t see that love’s drawing near,

  approaching you from every side.

  Snow White:

  Oh, but the thought of you hating

  and pursuing me I can’t shed.

  In my troubled mind it follows

  me and never, so long as I live,

  can I get this out of my mind.

  It sticks like this black in my heart.

  It darkens every joyful note

  of my soul and I am so tired.

  I long for that open coffin,

  laid out as this frozen image.

  Were I but with my dwarfs, then

  I would have peace and give you yours.

  I plague you. I see you want me

  a thousand miles away from here.

  Queen:

  No, no.

  Snow White:

  Ah, if I could be with the dwarfs.

  Queen:

  How was it there? Nice and quiet?

  Snow White:

  There sleep lays as quiet as snow.

  I would be with them, like brothers

  they were and so kind; there it shines,

  having a cheerful cleanliness.

  Pain, like some foul leftover food,

  unpleasant to a refined sense,

  was strange to that life’s white table.

  Like a bedsheet, the happiness

  was so clean you fell into sleep,

  into this realm of colored dreams.

  Unknown among the people there

  was any ungenerous nature.

  Each cherished their gentility,

  good manners. Sweet conversations

  found upon their lips a response.

  I would still be there, but I was

  driven in tears to you again,

  back into this worl
d where a heart

  has to wither away and die.

  Queen:

  So among your dwarfs hate did not

  exist? Perhaps love to them, too,

  was something entirely foreign.

  As you know, hate nourishes love,

  and love rather prefers to love,

  as you well know, cold, bitter hate.

  Snow White:

  I never felt a harsh word there.

  Hate never tarnished love. If love

  was there, that I don’t really know.

  Hate makes love perceptible first.

  There I didn’t know what love was.

  Here I know, for there’s just hate here.

  My yearning for love had made me

  conscious of love; inspired by hate,

  a soul longs to find love in some place.

  And there it dwelled among the dwarfs

  in unadulterated joy.

  No more about it. That was then.

  Queen:

  Now then, my dear, let’s have a laugh.

  Snow White:

  No, laughing wants some delight

  other than what is in my breast.

  My delight is only to cry.

  With kisses and flattery

  you goaded the Hunter just now,

  spurred him on to murder. You said,

  “Run the evil whore through,” shaking

  with anger. You called it a game.

  O, how the desire for revenge

  drove that outrageous game with me,

  she who knows not how to fight back.

  Lower me into my grave. Then

  Snow White’s grave is Snow White’s delight.

  I only find delight smiling

  in my coffin. There is my joy.

  Please lay me beside it.

  Queen:

  Now you smile, indeed, you’re laughing.

  Snow White:

  Ah, if only for a moment.

  This other thing tells me once more

  about the pain and woe you cause.

  It wags with its finger, points long,

  and shows me with enormous eyes

  what you’re up to. Then it whispers,

  “Your mother is not your mother.”

  The world is never a sweet world.

  Love is a leery, wordless hate.

  A hunter’s a prince. Life is death.

  You are not a good queen, rather

  you are a proud and wanton one

  who dispatched my bloody Hunter.

  He’s dear to you. You flattered him.

  You granted him that one sweet kiss

  with which you drove him to the kill.

  I am his quarry—all of this

  speaks of the next bitter moment.

  Now you shall hate me twice over.

  Queen:

  I set him on fire with kisses.

  Didn’t I? Isn’t that so? Say it!

  Shout it loud in this gentle world,

  into the winds and echo it

  into the clouds. Carve it likewise

  into these tree trunks rank with leaves,

  breathe it into these gentle airs

  that they, with this subtle fragrance,

  broadcast it likewise into spring.

  O, then everyone sucks it up,

  praising you as the innocent,

  calling me the terrible one

  for I fed this murder with love,

  inflamed it with a poison kiss.

  Hey there, Hunter, where’d you go? Come.

  Leave this guilt behind. I’ll kiss you,

  call you the dearest man of all,

  the best, the truest, the strongest and

  the handsomest, the boldest man.

  Snow White, help me here in my praise.

  Snow White:

  Enough, enough, you are going mad.

  Had I only not opened up

  the poisoned wound. Now it’s bleeding

  fresh again and will never heal.

  If you would but forgive me, Queen.

  Queen:

  To hell with forgiveness, guilt, shame,

  going soft. Hey, my loyal servant!

  The Hunter appears.

  Hunter:

  Did you call, Your Highness?

  Queen:

  My one and only, let’s kiss first.

  I could die. However, I still

  should have this short conversation.

  I still need to explain this game,

  otherwise she, who it concerns,

  will call it crude. Talk in my place.

  Explain to this silly, sad-eyed girl here

  that I hate and love her as well.

  Show your dagger. No don’t, darling!

  Just let it remain in its sheath.

  You should only talk, comfort her,

  tell her something she can believe,

  and reassure me, make it all

  quiet again as it had been

  before this casual game began.

  Now let’s get on with it, and do

  watch yourself. Don’t say too little

  that your spare words don’t say too much.

  Hunter:

  Snow White, come over here to me.

  Snow White:

  Since I’m no longer scared, gladly.

  Hunter:

  Do you think I want to kill you?

  Snow White:

  Yes and yet no. Yes, I’m strangled.

  No swiftly tells me yes again.

  Say it so that I believe you,

  that I must believe forever.

  No makes me tired. Yes is lovely.

  I believe the things you say, too.

  I like to say: Yes, I believe.

  No has long been averse to me.

  Thus, yes, yes, I do believe you.

  Hunter:

  Now see, that’s the voice of Snow White.

  She’s not herself being suspicious,

  torturess torturing herself

  and those who are devotedly

  in love with her. Let me say now,

  this suspicion just tells a lie,

  a made-up, poisonous lie, so,

  Snow White, believe me. It’s not true!

  Snow White:

  Yes, how gladly so. O yes, why

  not yes to all that you say.

  Saying yes feels so good, is so

  endlessly sweet. I believe you.

  Yes, if you were to lie, to build

  the fairy tale into the sky,

  tell me lies, draw me a picture

  within reach crudely, awkwardly,

  I would believe you forever.

  Yes I must say, forever yes.

  Never has such beautiful faith

  swelled in me than now, never such

  a sweet confession than this yes.

  Say what you want. I believe you.

  Hunter:

  How easy you make this business

  for me, for you, and this dear Queen.

  For that, thanks. But believe me, girl,

  I’ve been bold-faced lying to you.

  For the sake of my mistress there,

  I tell nothing but fairy tales.

  Snow White:

  No, no, don’t tell lies to yourself.

  I know that it’s your soul that speaks.

  I trust you. O, such confidence

  is safe, has never trusted wrong.

  Speak lies. My confidence makes them

  into truth as pure as silver.

  In fact, I can predict them all.

  Whatever you think and say,

  this yes will press truth on your words.

  Speak, for me, ever faithful,

  yes is this prisoner and longs

  to be free of his stifling cell.

  Hunter:

  I speak then free of guilt and shame

  here for the Queen. Do you believe?

  Snow White:

  Do I believe this? Yes, w
hy should

  I not believe in so much love?

  I believe. Be off. I believe.

  Just very happily be off.

  Hunter:

  That she drove me to this misdeed

  with fiery kisses isn’t true.

  The fairy tale lies, which thus speaks.

  Snow White:

  How could it be true since you say

  it’s not. Be off, I believe.

  Hunter:

  That she hates you like a snake,

  desirous of your sweet beauty

  is a lie. She’s a beauty too,

  like a resplendent summer tree.

  Behold her and call her lovely.

  Snow White:

  Lovely, O how lovely. Spring’s lush

  splendor is hardly so gorgeous.

  She surpasses in grandeur

  an image of polished marble

  when sculpted by a true artist.

  She is sweet like a gentle dream.

  The fancy of a fevered brow

  could not form such a fairy scene.

  And how can she be so jealous

  of me who stands like the winter

  at her side, so frosty and cold?

  I don’t believe it. How could she?

  Go on then, you see, in this case,

  I am of the same mind as you.

  Hunter:

  Beauty hates not beauty as much

  as a fairy tale has spread here.

  Snow White:

  No, she’s surely lovely herself.—

  So why hate this sister image,

  one who is begging at her feet

  and asks that, in the same shadow,

  it might exist in her imminence?

  Hunter:

  That I wanted to kill you is

  an endless childish fantasy.

  I never had the heart for it.

  From the very start I was touched

  by this sad, sweet, childlike pleading

  spoken by both your mouth and eyes.

  I lowered my dagger and arm,

  lifted you up, my sweet, to me.

  The deer, which had leapt in our way,

  I stabbed myself. Isn’t that so?

  Snow White:

  I hardly see it worth the time

  to bear out this story. Why, yes,

  of course. So it was. Yes, indeed.

  Hunter:

  The Queen never dispatched poison

  intended for you to your dwarfs.

  The poison apple isn’t true.

  The lie that says so is poison.

  She herself who makes such claim has

  ripened like a beautiful fruit,

  tempting, full of flattering splendor,

  but inside it would sicken who

  is bold enough to taste it.

  Snow White:

  It’s a lie, black and fantastic,

  repugnant to hear, for scaring

  children with. Be gone with this lie.

  Are you kidding? I beg of you,

  wring another stupid lie’s neck

  that just tries to be so clever.

  Why is the Queen so quiet?

  Hunter:

  She contemplates vain misery.

  She thinks of the mistake that plunged

  you both in flames of vicious strife.