Читать книгу The Complete Works - William Butler Yeats - Страница 146

I would that there was nothing in the world

But my beloved—that night and day had perished,

And all that is and all that is to be,

All that is not the meeting of our lips.

Forgael. Why do you turn your eyes upon bare night?

Am I to fear the waves, or is the moon

My enemy?

Dectora. I looked upon the moon,

Longing to knead and pull it into shape

That I might lay it on your head as a crown.

But now it is your thoughts that wander away,

For you are looking at the sea. Do you not know

How great a wrong it is to let one’s thought

Wander a moment when one is in love?

[He has moved away. She follows him. He is looking out over the sea, shading his eyes.

Dectora. Why are you looking at the sea?

Forgael. Look there!

There where the cloud creeps up upon the moon.

Dectora. What is there but a troop of ash-grey birds

That fly into the west?

[The scene darkens, but there is a ray of light upon the figures.

Forgael.But listen, listen!

Dectora. What is there but the crying of the birds?

Forgael. If you’ll but listen closely to that crying

You’ll hear them calling out to one another

With human voices.

Dectora.Clouds have hid the moon.

The birds cry out, what can I do but tremble?

Forgael. They have been circling over our heads in the air,

But now that they have taken to the road

We have to follow, for they are our pilots;

They’re crying out. Can you not hear their cry—

‘There is a country at the end of the world

Where no child’s born but to outlive the moon.’

[The Sailors come in with AIBRIC. They carry torches.]

Aibric. We have lit upon a treasure that’s so great

Imagination cannot reckon it.

The hold is full—boxes of precious spice,

Ivory images with amethyst eyes,

Dragons with eyes of ruby. The whole ship

Flashes as if it were a net of herrings.

Let us return to our own country, Forgael,

And spend it there. Have you not found this queen?

What more have you to look for on the seas?

Forgael. I cannot—I am going on to the end.

As for this woman, I think she is coming with me.

Aibric. Speak to him, lady, and bid him turn the ship.

He knows that he is taking you to death;

He cannot contradict me.

Dectora.Is that true?

Forgael. I do not know for certain.

Dectora.Carry me

To some sure country, some familiar place.

Have we not everything that life can give

In having one another?

Forgael. How could I rest

If I refused the messengers and pilots

With all those sights and all that crying out?

Dectora. I am a woman, I die at every breath.

Aibric [to the Sailors]. To the other ship, for there’s no help in words,

And I will follow you and cut the rope

When I have said farewell to this man here,

For neither I nor any living man

Will look upon his face again.

[Sailors go out, leaving one torch perhaps in a torch-holder on the bulwark.

Forgael [to DECTORA].Go with him,

For he will shelter you and bring you home.

Aibric [taking FORGAEL’S hand]. I’ll do it for his sake.

Dectora.No. Take this sword

And cut the rope, for I go on with Forgael.

Aibric. Farewell! Farewell!

[He goes out. The light grows stronger.

Dectora.The sword is in the rope—

The rope’s in two—it falls into the sea,

It whirls into the foam. O ancient worm,

Dragon that loved the world and held us to it,

You are broken, you are broken. The world drifts away,

And I am left alone with my beloved,

Who cannot put me from his sight for ever.

We are alone for ever, and I laugh,

Forgael, because you cannot put me from you.

The mist has covered the heavens, and you and I

Shall be alone for ever. We two—this crown—

I half remember. It has been in my dreams.

Bend lower, O king, that I may crown you with it.

O flower of the branch, O bird among the leaves,

O silver fish that my two hands have taken

Out of the running stream, O morning star,

Trembling in the blue heavens like a white fawn

Upon the misty border of the wood,

Bend lower, that I may cover you with my hair,

For we will gaze upon this world no longer.

[The harp begins to burn as with fire.]

Forgael [gathering DECTORA’S hair about him]. Beloved, having dragged the net about us,

And knitted mesh to mesh, we grow immortal;

And that old harp awakens of itself

To cry aloud to the grey birds, and dreams,

That have had dreams for father, live in us.