Рихард Вагнер: The Rhinegold & The Valkyrie. The Ring of the Niblung, part 1

Héhé! Héhé!
Come here! Come here!
Mischievous dwarf!
Prettily pinched
Promptly thou'lt be
Hast thou not ready,
Wrought to my wish,
The dainty thing I desire!

Ohé! Ohé!
Oh! Oh!
Let me alone!
It is forged;
Heeding thy hest
I laboured hard
Till it was done!
Take but thy nails from my ear!

Then why this delay
To show thy work?

I feared that something
Might still be wanting.

What is there to finish?

Here—and there–

How here and there?
Hand me the thing!

Rogue, observe!
See how all wrought is
Well finished and feat,
Done as desired!
The simpleton wants
Slyly to trick me
And keep by cunning
The wonderful work,
Though all his skill
Came alone from my craft.
Thou art discovered, thief.

The helmet fits the head;
But will the spell prosper too?

"Night and darkness,
Seen of none!"

Brother, canst see me?

Where art thou? I see no one.

Then feel me instead,
Thou lazy scamp!
Take that for thy thievish thoughts!

Ohé! Ohé!
Oh! Oh! Oh!

Ha! ha! ha!
Ha! ha! ha!
I thank thee, blockhead;
Thy work has stood the test.
Hoho! Hoho!
Nibelungs all
Bow now to Alberich!
For he is everywhere,
Waiting and watching;
Peace and rest
Are past for ever;
Ye must all serve him,
Though see him can none;
Where he cannot be spied
Look out for his coming;
None shall escape from his thraldom!

Hoho! hoho!
Hearken, he nears:
The Nibelung's lord!

Nibelheim here.
Through pale mists gleaming,
How bright yonder fiery sparks glimmer!

Oh! Oh! Oh!

I hear loud groans.
Who lies on the ground?

Why all this whimpering noise?

Ohé! Ohé!
Oh! Oh!

Hei, Mime! Merry dwarf!
Who beats and bullies thee so?

Leave me in peace, pray.

So much is certain,
And more still. Hark!
Help I promise thee, Mime!

What help for me?
To do his bidding
My brother can force me,
For I am bound as his slave.

But, Mime, how has he
Thus made thee his thrall?

By evil arts
Fashioned Alberich
A yellow ring,
From the Rhinegold forged,
At whose mighty magic
Trembling we marvel;
This spell puts in his power
The Nibelung hosts of night.
Happy we smiths
Moulded and hammered,
Making our women
Trinkets to wear—
Exquisite Nibelung toys—
And lightly laughed at our toil.
The rogue now compels us
To creep into caverns,
For him alone
To labour unthanked.
Through the golden ring
His greed can divine
Where untouched treasure
In hidden gorge gleams.
We still must keep spying,
Peering and delving:
Must melt the booty,
Which, molten, we forge
Without pause or peace,
To heap up higher his hoard.

Just now, then, an idler
Roused him to wrath?

Poor Mime, ah!
My lot was the hardest.
I had to work,
Forging a helmet,
With strict instructions
How to contrive it;
And well I marked
The wondrous might
Bestowed by the helm
That from steel I wrought.
Hence I had gladly
Held it as mine,
And, by its virtue
Risen at last in revolt:
Perchance, yes, perchance
The master himself I had mastered,
And, he in my power, had wrested
The ring from him and used it
That he might serve me, the free man,

As now I must serve him, a slave!

And wherefore, wise one,
Sped not the plan?

Ah! though the helm I fashioned,
The magic that lurks therein
I foolishly failed to divine.
He who set the task
And seized the fruits—
From him I have learnt,
Alas I but too late!
All the helmet's cunning craft.
From my sight he vanished,
But, viciously lashing,
Swung his arm through unseen.

This, fool that I am,
Was all my thanks!

Confess, our task
Will call for skill.

Yet the foe will yield,
Use thou but fraud.

Who are you, ye strangers
That ask all these questions?

Friends to thee,
Who from their straits
Will free all the Nibelung folk.

Hark! Have a care!
Alberich comes!

We'll wait for him here.

Hither! Thither!
Héhé! Hoho!
Lazy herd!
Haste and heap
Higher the hoard.
Up with thee there!
On with thee here!
Indolent dolts,
Down with the treasure!
Need ye my urging?
Here with it all!