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Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2. Рихард ВагнерЧитать онлайн книгу.

Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2 - Рихард Вагнер


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bungler!

      'Tis on thy skull

      It should have been broken!

      Shall such a braggart

      Still go on boasting,

      Telling of giants

      And prowess in battle,

      Of deeds of valour,

      And dauntless defence?—

      A sword true and trusty

      Try to forge me,

      Praising the skill

      He does not possess?

      When I take hold

      Of what he has hammered,

      The rubbish crumbles

      At a mere touch!

      Were not the wretch

      Too mean for my wrath,

      I would break him in bits

      As well as his work—

      The doting fool of a gnome!—

      And end the annoyance at once!

      [Siegfried throws himself on to a stone seat in a rage. Mime all the time has been cautiously keeping out of his way.

      MIME

      Again thou ravest like mad,

      Ungrateful and perverse.

      If what for him I forge

      Is not perfect on the spot,

      Too soon the boy forgets

      The good things I have made!

      Wilt never learn the lesson

      Of gratitude, I wonder?

      Thou shouldst be glad to obey him

      Who always treated thee well.

      [Siegfried turns his back on Mime in a bad temper, and sits with his face to the wall.

      Thou dost not like to be told that!

      [He stands perplexed, then goes to the hearth in the kitchen.

      But thou wouldst fain be fed.

      Wilt eat the meat I have roasted,

      Or wouldst thou prefer the broth?

      'Twas boiled solely for thee.

      [He brings food to Siegfried, who, without turning round, knocks both bowl and meat out of his hand.

      SIEGFRIED

      Meat I roast for myself;

      Sup thy filthy broth alone!

      MIME [In a wailing voice, as if hurt.

      This is the reward

      Of all my love!

      All my care

      Is paid for with scorn.

      When thou wert a babe

      I was thy nurse,

      Made the mite clothing

      To keep him warm,

      Brought thee thy food,

      Gave thee to drink,

      Kept thee as safe

      As I keep my skin;

      And when thou wert grown

      I waited on thee,

      And made a bed

      For thy slumber soft.

      I fashioned thee toys

      And a sounding horn,

      Grudging no pains,

      Wert thou but pleased.

      With counsel wise

      I guided thee well,

      With mellow wisdom

      Training thy mind.

      Sitting at home,

      I toil and moil;

      To heart's desire

      Wander thy feet.

      Through thee alone worried,

      And working for thee,

      I wear myself out,

      A poor old dwarf!

      [Sobbing.

      And for my trouble

      The sole reward is

      By a hot-tempered boy

      [Sobbing.

      To be hated and plagued!

      SIEGFRIED

      [Has turned round again and has quietly watched Mime's face, while the latter, meeting the look, tries timidly to hide his own.

      Thou hast taught me much, Mime,

      And many things I have learned;

      But what thou most gladly hadst taught me

      A lesson too hard has proved—

      How to endure thy sight.

      When with my food

      Or drink thou dost come,

      I sup off loathing alone;

      When thou dost softly

      Make me a bed,

      My sleep is broken and bad;

      When thou wouldst teach me

      How to be wise,

      Fain were I deaf and dumb.

      If my eyes happen

      To fall on thee,

      I find all thou doest

      Amiss and ill-done;

      When thou dost stand,

      Waddle and walk,

      Shamble and shuffle,

      With thine eyelids blinking,

      By the neck I want

      To take the nodder,

      And choke the life

      From the hateful twitcher.

      So much, O Mime, I love thee!

      Hast thou such wisdom,

      Explain, I pray thee,

      A thing I have wondered at:

      Though I go roaming

      Just to avoid thee,

      Why do I always return?

      Though I love the beasts

      All better than thee—

      Tree and bird

      And the fish in the brook,

      One and all

      They are dearer than thou—

      How is it I always return?

      Of thy wisdom tell me that.

      MIME

      [Tries to approach him affectionately.

      My child, that ought to show thee

      That Mime is dear to thy heart.

      SIEGFRIED

      I said I could not bear thee;

      Forget not that so soon.

      MIME

      [Recoils, and sits down again apart, opposite Siegfried.]

      The wildness that thou shouldst tame

      Is the cause, bad boy, of that.

      Young


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