Quinta-feira, 16 de Julho de 2009

DA SUÉCIA

 

 "Because all you men, great and small, are woman's children, every man of you."

 

 

 

 

Plays.

 

I hate you, hate you, hate you! And you only sit there silent--
silent and indifferent; indifferent whether it's new moon or waning
moon, Christmas or New Year's, whether others are happy or unhappy;
without power to hate or to love; as quiet as a stork by a rat
hole--you couldn't scent your prey and capture it, but you could
lie in wait for it! You sit here in your corner of the cafe--did
you know it's called "The Rat Trap" for you?--and read the papers
to see if misfortune hasn't befallen some one, to see if some one
hasn't been given notice at the theatre, perhaps; you sit here and
calculate about your next victim and reckon on your chances of
recompense like a pilot in a shipwreck. Poor Amelie, I pity you,
nevertheless, because I know you are unhappy, unhappy like one who
has been wounded, and angry because you are wounded. I can't be
angry with you, no matter how much I want to be--because you come
out the weaker one. Yes, all that with Bob doesn't trouble me. What
is that to me, after all? And what difference does it make whether
I learned to drink chocolate from you or some one else.
[Sips a spoonful from her cup.]

 

 

JULIE. Enough to start with. Go with me for I can't go alone--
today, midsummer day. Think of the stuffy train, packed in with the
crowds of people staring at one; the long stops at the stations
when one would be speeding away. No, I cannot, I cannot! And then
the memories, childhood's memories of midsummer day--the church
decorated with birch branches and syringa blossoms; the festive
dinner table with relations and friends, afternoon in the park,
music, dancing, flowers and games--oh, one may fly, fly, but
anguish and remorse follow in the pack wagon.

 

 

JULIE [Presto tempo]. You leave never been out and traveled,
Kristin. You shall look about you in the world. Yon can't believe
how pleasant traveling on a train is--new faces continually, new
countries--and we'll go to Hamburg--and passing through we'll see
the zoological gardens--that you will like--then we'll go to the
theatre and hear the opera--and when we reach Munich there will be
the museum--there are Rubins and Raphaels and all the big painters
that you know--you have heard of Munich--where King Ludwig lived--
the King, you know, who went mad. Then we'll see his palace--a
palace like those in the Sagas--and from there it isn't far to
Switzerland--and the Alps, the Alps mind you with snow in
mid-summer. And there oranges grow and laurel--green all the year
round if--[Jean is seen in the doorway R. stropping his razor on
the strop which he holds between his teeth and left hand. He listens
and nods his head favorably now and then. Julie continues, tempo
prestissimo] And there we'll take a hotel and I'll sit taking the
cash while Jean greets the guests--goes out and markets writes
letters--that will be life, you may believe--then the train
whistles--then the omnibus comes--then a bell rings upstairs, then
in the restaurant--and then I make out the bills--and I can salt
them--you can't think how people tremble when they receive their
bill--and you--you can sit like a lady--of course you won't have
to stand over the stove--you can dress finely and neatly when you
show yourself to the people--and you with your appearance--Oh, I'm
not flattering, you can catch a husband some fine day--a rich Englishman
perhaps--they are so easy to--[Slowing up] to catch-- --Then we'll
be rich--and then we'll build a villa by Lake Como--to be sure it
rains sometimes--but [becoming languid] the sun must shine too
sometimes-- -- --although it seems dark-- -- --and if not--we can
at least travel homeward--and come back--here--or some other place.

 

 

JULIE [Ecstatically]. I sleep already. The whole room is like smoke
before me--and you are like a tall black stove, like a man clad in
black clothes with a high hat; and your eyes gleam like the hot
coals when the fire is dying; and your face a white spot like
fallen ashes. [The sunshine is coming in through the windows and
falls on Jean. Julie rubs her hands as though warming them before a
fire]. It is so warm and good--and so bright and quiet!

 

 

JULIE [Looks toward chopping block as though obsessed by thought of
the slain bird]. No, I cannot. I must see-- --hush, a carriage is
passing. Don't you think I can stand the sight of blood? You think
I am weak. Oh, I should like to see your blood flowing--to see your
brain on the chopping block, all your sex swimming in a sea of
blood. I believe I could drink out of your skull, bathe my feet in
your breast and eat your heart cooked whole. You think I am weak;
you believe that I love you because my life has mingled with yours;
you think that I would carry your offspring under my heart, and
nourish it with my blood--give birth to your child and take your
name! Hear, you, what are you called, what is your family name? But
I'm sure you have none. I should be "Mrs. Gate-Keeper," perhaps, or
"Madame Dumpheap." You dog with my collar on, you lackey with my
father's hallmark on your buttons. I play rival to my cook--oh--oh--
oh! You believe that I am cowardly and want to run away. No, now I
shall stay. The thunder may roll. My father will return--and find
his desk broken into--his money gone! Then he will ring--that bell.
A scuffle with his servant--then sends for the police--and then I
tell all--everything! Oh, it will be beautiful to have it all over
with--if only that were the end! And my father--he'll have a shock
and die, and then that will be the end. Then they will place his
swords across the coffin--and the Count's line is extinct. The
serf's line will continue in an orphanage, win honors in the gutter
and end in prison.

 

Imagens - Nan Goldin

 

publicado por ionesco às 16:49
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