Морис Метерлинк - Синяя птица / The blue Bird. Уровень 1

Tyltyl. Do you sleep all the time?

Grandfather. Yes, we sleep a lot. We are waiting for a thought of the Living. It wakes us. Ah, it is good to sleep when life is over. But it is pleasant also to wake up from time to time.

Tyltyl. So you are not really dead?

Grandfather. What do you say? What is he saying? Now he’s using words we don’t understand. Is it a new word?

Tyltyl. The word “dead”?

Grandfather. Yes, that was the word. What does it mean?

Tyltyl. Why, it means that one’s no longer alive.

Grandfather. How silly they are!

Tyltyl. Is it nice here?

Grandfather. Oh, yes; not bad, not bad.

Grandmother. Not bad, yes. But please come and see us oftener. Do you remember, Tyltyl? The last time I baked you a lovely apple-pie.

Tyltyl. I ate apples last year. There are no apples this year.

Grandmother. Don’t talk nonsense. Here, we have them always.

Tyltyl (looking first at his Grandmother and then at his Grandfather). You are the same. But you’re better-looking.

Grandfather. Well, we feel all right. We don’t grow older [21] grow older – стареть . But you, how tall you’re growing! Look, over there, on the door, is the mark of the last time. That was on All-hallows. Now then, stand up straight.

(Tyltyl stands up against the door).

Four fingers taller!

(Mytyl also stands up against the door).

And Mytyl, four and a half!

Tyltyl (looking around). Nothing is changed, everything is in its old place! Only everything is prettier! There is the clock with the big hand which I broke. And here is the hole which I made in the door.

Grandfather. And here is the plum-tree in which you were climbing, when I wasn’t looking. It still has its fine red plums.

Mytyl. And here is the old blackbird! Does it still sing?

The blackbird wakes and begins to sing.

Grandmother. You see. As soon as one thinks of it.

Tyltyl. But it’s blue! That’s the Blue Bird which I must take back to the Fairy. And you never told us that you had it here! Oh, it’s blue, blue, blue! Granddad, granny, will you give it to me?

Grandfather. Yes, perhaps, perhaps. What do you think, granny?

Grandmother. Certainly, certainly. He does nothing but sleep.

Tyltyl. I will put him in my cage. But where is my cage? Oh, I left it behind the big tree. (He runs to the tree, fetches the cage and puts the blackbird into it). How pleased the Fairy will be! And Light too!

Grandfather. Hm, I’m afraid that the bird won’t like the restless life and will come back here. However, we will see. Leave it there, and come and look at the cow.

Tyltyl (noticing the hives). And how are the bees getting on?

Grandfather. Oh, pretty well. They are no longer alive, as you call it; but they work hard.

Tyltyl (going up to the hives). Oh, yes! I can smell the honey! All the flowers are so beautiful! And my little dead sisters, are they here too?

Mytyl. And where are my three little brothers who were dead as well?

At these words, seven little children, of different sizes, come out of the cottage, one by one.

Grandfather. Here they are, here they are! As soon as you think of them, as soon as you speak of them, they are there, the darlings!

Tyltyl and Mytyl run to meet the Children. They hustle and hug one another and dance and utter screams of joy.

Tyltyl. Hallo, Pierrot! And Robert! Jean! Madeleine and Pierette and Pauline! And here’s Riquette!

Mytyl. Oh, Riquette, Riquette! She is a baby!

Grandmother. Yes, she does not grow.

Tyltyl (noticing the little dog). There’s Kiki, whose tail I cut off with Pauline’s scissors. It’s still the same.

Grandfather. (sententiously). Nothing changes here.

Tyltyl. And Pauline still has a pimple on her nose.

Grandmother. Yes, it won’t go away.

Tyltyl. Oh, how well they look! What jolly cheeks they have!

Grandmother. They are here. There’s nothing more to fear. Nobody is ever ill, one has no anxiety.

The clock inside the cottage strikes eight.

Grandmother (amazed). What’s that?

Grandfather. I don’t know. It must be the clock.

Grandmother It can’t be. It never strikes.

Grandfather. Because we no longer think of the time. Was anyone thinking of the time?

Tyltyl. Yes, I was. What is the time?

Grandfather. I can’t tell. It struck eight times, so I suppose it’s eight o’clock.

Tyltyl. Light expects me at a quarter to nine. Fairy told me so. It’s extremely important.

Grandfather. Don’t leave us so fast. The supper will be ready soon! Quick, quick, let’s lay the table outside. I’ve got some cabbage-soup and a beautiful plum-tart.

Tyltyl. Well, I have the Blue Bird… And I like cabbage-soup.

Grandmother. There! Sit down, children.

The Grandparents and the Children sit down round the table. They are jostling and laughing and screaming with pleasure.

Tyltyl (eating). How good it is! Oh, how good it is! I want some more! More!

The clock strikes half-past eight.

Tyltyl. Half-past eight! (He flings down his spoon). Mytyl, we’re late!

Grandmother. Oh! Just a few minutes more! We see you so seldom.

Tyltyl. No, we can’t. Light is so kind. And I promised her. Come, Mytyl, come!

Grandfather. How tiresome the Living is with all its business!

Tyltyl (taking his cage and hurriedly kissing everybody). Good-bye, granddad. Good-bye, granny. Good-bye, brothers and sisters, Pierrot, Robert, Pauline, Madeleine, Riquette and you, too, Kiki. We mustn’t stay. Don’t cry, granny; we will come back often.

Grandmother. Come back every day!

Tyltyl. Yes, yes; we will come back as often as we can.

Grandmother. It’s our only pleasure when your thoughts visit us!

Grandfather. We have no other amusements.

Tyltyl. Quick, quick! My cage! My bird!

Grandfather (handing him the cage). Here they are!

Tyltyl. Good-bye! Good-bye!

The Brothers and Sisters Tyl. Good-bye, Tyltyl! Good-bye, Mytyl! Good-bye! Come again! Come again!

They all wave their handkerchiefs while Tyltyl and Mytyl slowly move away. But everything is already in the mist.

Tyltyl. It’s this way, Mytyl.

Mytyl. Where is Light?

Tyltyl. I don’t know. (Looking at the bird in the cage). But the bird is not blue! It’s black!

Mytyl. Give me your hand, little brother. I feel so frightened and so cold.

A large and wonderful hall. Austere, rigid, metallic and sepulchral magnificence. Impression of a Greek temple with columns, flagstones and ornaments of black marble, gold and ebony. The hall is trapezium-shaped. Basalt steps divide it into three successive stages. On the right and left, between the columns, are doors of somber bronze. At the back, a monumental door of brass.

Night is a very old woman in long, black garments. She is between two children. One, almost naked, is smiling in a deep sleep, while the other is standing up. He is motionless and veiled from head to foot. The Cat enters.

Night. Who goes there?

The Cat. It is I, Mother Night. I am very tired.