Читать книгу The Acorn-Planter - Джек Лондон, William Hootkins - Страница 3

     Shaman     (Looking up hillside.)     Red Cloud is late.

     Old Man     (After inspection of hillside.)     He has chased the deer far. He is patient.

     In the chase he is patient like an old man.

     Shaman     His feet are as fleet as the deer's.

     Old Man     (Nodding.)     And he is more patient than the deer.

     Shaman     (Assertively, as if inculcating a lesson.)     He is a mighty chief.

     Old Man     (Nodding.)     His father was a mighty chief. He is like to

     his father.

     Shaman     (More assertively.)     He is his father. It is so spoken. He is

     his father's father. He is the first man, the

     first Red Cloud, ever born, and born again, to

     chiefship of his people.

     Old Man     It is so spoken.

     Shaman     His father was the Coyote. His mother was

     the Moon. And he was the first man.

     Old Man     (Repeating.)     His father was the Coyote. His mother was

     the Moon. And he was the first man.

     Shaman     He planted the first acorns, and he is very

     wise.

     Old Man     (Repeating.)     He planted the first acorns, and he is very

     wise.

     (Cries from the women and a turning of

     faces. Red Cloud appears among his

     hunters descending the hillside. All

     carry spears, and bows and arrows.

     Some carry rabbits and other small

     game. Several carry deer)

     PLAINT OF THE NISHINAM

     Red Cloud, the meat-bringer!

     Red Cloud, the acorn-planter!

     Red Cloud, first man of the Nishinam!

     Thy people hunger.

     Far have they fared.

     Hard has the way been.

     Day long they sought,

     High in the mountains,

     Deep in the pools,

     Wide 'mong the grasses,

     In the bushes, and tree-tops,

     Under the earth and flat stones.

     Few are the acorns,

     Past is the time for berries,

     Fled are the fishes, the prawns and the grasshoppers,

     Blown far are the grass-seeds,

     Flown far are the young birds,

     Old are the roots and withered.

     Built are the fires for the meat.

     Laid are the boughs for sleep,

     Yet thy people cannot sleep.

     Red Cloud, thy people hunger.

     Red Cloud     (Still descending.)     Good hunting! Good hunting!

     Hunters     Good hunting! Good hunting!

     (Completing the descent, Red Cloud

     motions to the meat-bearers. They throw

     down their burdens before the women,

     who greedily inspect the spoils.)

     MEAT SONG OF THE NISHINAM

     Meat that is good to eat,

     Tender for old teeth,

     Gristle for young teeth,

     Big deer and fat deer,

     Lean meat and fat meat,

     Haunch-meat and knuckle-bone,

     Liver and heart.

     Food for the old men,

     Life for all men,

     For women and babes.

     Easement of hunger-pangs,

     Sorrow destroying,

     Laughter provoking,

     Joy invoking,

     In the smell of its smoking

     And its sweet in the mouth.

     (The younger women take charge of the meat,

     and the older women resume their acorn-pounding.)

     (Red Cloud approaches the acorn-pounders

     and watches them with pleasure.

     All group about him, the Shaman to the

     fore, and hang upon his every action, his

     every utterance.)

     Red Cloud     The heart of the acorn is good?

     First Old Woman     (Nodding.)     It is good food.

     Red Cloud     When you have pounded and winnowed and

     washed away the bitter.

     Second Old Woman     As thou taught'st us, Red Cloud, when the

     world was very young and thou wast the first man.

     Red Cloud     It is a fat food. It makes life, and life is good.

     Shaman     It was thou, Red Cloud, gathering the acorns

     and teaching the storing, who gavest life to the

     Nishinam in the lean years aforetime, when the

     tribes not of the Nishinam passed like the dew

     of the morning.

     (He nods a signal to the Old Man.)

     Old Man     In the famine in the old time,

     When the old man was a young man,

     When the heavens ceased from raining,

     When the grasslands parched and withered,

     When the fishes left the river,

     And the wild meat died of sickness,

     In the tribes that knew not acorns,

     All their women went dry-breasted,

     All their younglings chewed the deer-hides,

     All their old men sighed and perished,

     And the young men died beside them,

     Till they died by tribe and totem,

     And o'er all was death upon them.

     Yet the Nishinam unvanquished,

     Did not perish by the famine.

     Oh, the acorns Red Cloud gave them!

     Oh, the acorns Red Cloud taught them

     How to store in willow baskets

     'Gainst the time and need of famine!

     Shaman     (Who, throughout the Old Man's recital, has

     nodded approbation, turning to Red

     Cloud.)

     Sing to thy people, Red Cloud, the song of

     life which is the song of the acorn.

     Red Cloud     (Making ready to begin)     And which is the song of woman, O Shaman.

     Shaman     (Hushing the people to listen, solemnly)     He sings with his father's lips, and with the

     lips of his father's fathers to the beginning of time

     and men.

     SONG OF THE FIRST MAN

     Red Cloud     I am Red Cloud,

     The first man of the Nishinam.

     My father was the Coyote.

     My mother was the Moon.

     The Coyote danced with the stars,

     And wedded the Moon on a mid-summer night

     The Coyote is very wise,

     The Moon is very old,

     Mine is his wisdom,

     Mine is her age.

     I am the first man.

     I am the life-maker and the father of life.

     I am the fire-bringer.

     The Nishinam were the first men,

     And they were without fire,

     And knew the bite of the frost of bitter nights.

     The panther stole the fire from the East,

     The fox stole the fire from the panther,

     The ground squirrel stole the fire from the fox,

     And I, Red Cloud, stole the fire from the ground squirrel.

     I, Red Cloud, stole the fire for the Nishinam,

     And hid it in the heart of the wood.

     To this day is the fire there in the heart of the wood.

     I am the Acorn-Planter.

     I brought down the acorns from heaven.

     I planted the short acorns in the valley.

     I planted the long acorns in the valley.

     I planted the black-oak acorns that sprout, that sprout!

     I planted the sho-kum and all the roots of the ground.

     I planted the oat and the barley, the beaver-tail grass-nut,

     The tar-weed and crow-foot, rock lettuce and ground lettuce,

     And I taught the virtue of clover in the season of blossom,

     The yellow-flowered clover, ball-rolled in its yellow dust.

     I taught the cooking in baskets by hot stones from the fire,

     Took the bite from the buckeye and soap-root

     By ground-roasting and washing in the sweetness of water,

     And of the manzanita the berry I made into flour,

     Taught the way of its cooking with hot stones in sand pools,

     And the way of its eating with the knobbed tail of the deer.

     Taught I likewise the gathering and storing,

     The parching and pounding

     Of the seeds from the grasses and grass-roots;

     And taught I the planting of seeds in the Nishinam home-camps,

     In the Nishinam hills and their valleys,

     In the due times and seasons,

     To sprout in the spring rains and grow ripe in the sun.

     Shaman     Hail, Red Cloud, the first man!

     The People     Hail, Red Cloud, the first man!

     Shaman     Who showedst us the way of our feet in the world!

     The People     Who showedst us the way of our feet in the world!

     Shaman     Who showedst us the way of our food in the world!

     The People     Who showedst us the way of our food in the world!

     Shaman     Who showedst us the way of our hearts in the world!

     The People     Who showedst us the way of our hearts in the world!

     Shaman     Who gavest us the law of family!

     The People     Who gavest us the law of family!

     Shaman     The law of tribe!

     The People     The law of tribe!

     Shaman     The law of totem!

     The People     The law of totem!

     Shaman     And madest us strong in the world among men!

     The People     And madest us strong in the world among men!

     Red Cloud     Life is good, O Shaman, and I have sung but

     half its song. Acorns are good. So is woman

     good. Strength is good. Beauty is good. So is

     kindness good. Yet are all these things without

     power except for woman. And by these things

     woman makes strong men, and strong men make

     for life, ever for more life.

     War Chief     (With gesture of interruption that causes

     remonstrance from the Shaman but which

     Red Cloud acknowledges.)

     I care not for beauty. I desire strength in

     battle and wind in the chase that I may kill my

     enemy and run down my meat.

     Red Cloud     Well spoken, O War Chief. By voices in

     council we learn our minds, and that, too, is

     strength. Also, is it kindness. For kindness

     and strength and beauty are one. The eagle in

     the high blue of the sky is beautiful. The salmon

     leaping the white water in the sunlight is beautiful.

     The young man fastest of foot in the race

     is beautiful. And because they fly well, and leap

     well, and run well, are they beautiful. Beauty

     must beget beauty. The ring-tail cat begets

     the ring-tail cat, the dove the dove. Never

     does the dove beget the ring-tail cat. Hearts

     must be kind. The little turtle is not kind.

     That is why it is the little turtle. It lays its

     eggs in the sun-warm sand and forgets its young

     forever. And the little turtle is forever the

     Kttle turtle. But we are not little turtles,

     because we are kind. We do not leave our young

     to the sun in the sand. Our women keep our

     young warm under their hearts, and, after, they

     keep them warm with deer-skin and campfire.

     Because we are kind we are men and not little

     turtles, and that is why we eat the little turtle

     that is not strong because it is not kind.

     War Chief     (Gesturing to be heard.)     The Modoc come against us in their strength.

     Often the Modoc come against us. We cannot

     be kind to the Modoc.

     Red Cloud     That will come after. Kindness grows. First

     must we be kind to our own. After, long after,

     all men will be kind to all men, and all men will

     be very strong. The strength of the Nishinam

     is not the strength of its strongest fighter. It is

     the strength of all the Nishinam added together

     that makes the Nishinam strong. We talk, you

     and I, War Chief and First Man, because we are

     kind one to the other, and thus we add together

     our wisdom, and all the Nishinam are stronger

     because we have talked.

     (A voice is heard singing. Red Cloud

     holds up his hand for silence.)

     MATING SONG

     Dew-Woman     In the morning by the river,

        In the evening at the fire,

     In the night when all lay sleeping,

        Torn was I with life's desire.

     There were stirrings 'neath my heart-beats

        Of the dreams that came to me;

     In my ears were whispers, voices,

        Of the children yet to be.

     Red Cloud     (As Red Cloud sings, Dew-Woman

     steals from behind a tree and approaches

     him.)

     In the morning by the river

        Saw I first my maid of dew,

     Daughter of the dew and dawnlight,

        Of the dawn and honey-dew.

     She was laughter, she was sunlight,

        Woman, maid, and mate, and wife;

     She was sparkle, she was gladness,

        She was all the song of life.

     Dew-Woman     In the night I built my fire,

        Fire that maidens foster when

     In the ripe of mating season

        Each builds for her man of men.

     Red Cloud     In the night I sought her, proved her,

        Found her ease, content, and rest,

     After day of toil and struggle

        Man's reward on woman's breast.

     Dew-Woman     Came to me my mate and lover;

        Kind the hands he laid on me;

     Wooed me gently as a man may,

        Father of the race to be.

     Red Cloud     Soft her arms about me bound me,

        First man of the Nishinam,

     Arms as soft as dew and dawnlight,