(Bodas de sangre)
MOON: White swan in the river,
the eye of cathedrals,false dawn in the leaves,
am I. They cannot hide!
in the valley’s tangle?
The moon leaves a knife
behind in the air,
a lead-coloured trap
that seeks blood’s cry.
Let me in! I come frozen
through walls and windows!
Open roofs and breasts
where I can be warmed!
I’m chilled! My ashesof somnolent metals seek the crown of the fire
among streets and mountains.
But I bring the snow to their shoulders of jasper,
and I flood, cold and harsh,
the depths of the lakes.
But this night my cheeks
will be stained with red blood,
and the reeds clustered
in wide swathes of air.
I have no shadow,
nowhere they can hide!
Let me enter a breast
where I can be warmed!
A heart of my own!
Burning! Spilling itselfon the hills of my breast;
Let me come in! Oh, let me!
(To the branches)
No shadow. My raysmust shine everywhere,
and in dark of the trees
spread a rumour of dawn,
so my cheeks this night
will be stained with red blood,
and the reeds clustered
in wide swathes of air.
Who’s that hiding! Speak out!
No! There’s no escape!
I’ll make the horse gleam
with a fever of diamond.
(The Moon vanishes among the trees and leaves the scene to its gloom. An old woman appears dressed in dark-green rags. She is bare-footed. Her face is hidden in the folds of her cloak. This character does not appear in the cast list.)
BEGGARWOMAN:
The moon is gone, and they are near by.
They’ll not leave here. The sound of the river
will drown in the sound of the trees
the broken flight of their cries.
It must be here, and soon. I am weary.
The chests, and the white sheets ache
await on the empty bedroom floors
the heavy corpses with slashed throats.
Not a bird will stir and the breeze,
will sweep the sound of their cries
away with her through the black trees,
or bury them deep in gleaming mud.
The moon! The moon! (Impatiently)
The moon! The moon!
(The Moon emerges. The intense light returns.)
MOON: They’re nearer now.
Some by the hill, the rest by the river.
I’ll light their way. What do you need?
BEGGARWOMAN: Nothing.
MOON: The air is hardening, and double-edged.
BEGGARWOMAN: Light their waistcoats, pluck off the buttons,
so that later the knives will know the road.
MOON: But let them die slowly. Let the blood seep
slow through my fingers, a delicate whisper.
Already my ashen valleys are stirring
they yearn for that fount, its quivering flow!
BEGGARWOMAN: We won’t let them pass the stream! Now, silence!
MOON: They’re here!
(The Moon vanishes. Leaving the scene in darkness.)
BEGGARWOMAN: Swiftly! Light! Did you hear me? They must not escape!