men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第12节
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window shone Upon her sitting there； alone。 For Theodore slept。
The twenty…eighth was last rehearsal day； 'Twas called for noon； so
early morning meant Herr Altgelt's only time in which to play His part
alone。 Drawn like a monk who's spent Himself in prayer and fasting；
Theodore went Into the kitchen； with a weary word Of cheer to Lotta；
careless if she heard。
Lotta heard more than his spoken word。 She heard the
vibrating of strings and wood。 She was washing the dishes； her hands
all suds； When the sound began； Long as the span Of a white
road snaking about a hill。 The orchards are filled With cherry
blossoms at butterfly poise。 Hawthorn buds are cracking； And in
the distance a shepherd is clacking His shears； snip…snipping the wool
from his sheep。 The notes are asleep； Lying adrift on the air
In level lines Like sunlight hanging in pines and pines； Strung and
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Men； Women and Ghosts
threaded； All imbedded In the blue…green of the hazy pines。
Lines long； straight lines！ And stems； Long； straight stems
Pushing up To the cup of blue； blue sky。 Stems growing misty
With the many of them； Red…green mist Of the trees； And
these Wood…flavoured notes。 The back is maple and the belly is
pine。 The rich notes twine As though weaving in and out of leaves；
Broad leaves Flapping slowly like elephants' ears； Waving and
falling。 Another sound peers Through little pine fingers； And
lingers； peeping。 Ping！ Ping！ pizzicato； something is cheeping。
There is a twittering up in the branches； A chirp and a lilt； And
crimson atilt on a swaying twig。 Wings！ Wings！ And a little
ruffled…out throat which sings。 The forest bends； tumultuous With
song。 The woodpecker knocks； And the song…sparrow trills；
Every fir； and cedar； and yew Has a nest or a bird； It is quite
absurd To hear them cutting across each other： Peewits； and
thrushes； and larks； all at once； And a loud cuckoo is trying to smother
A wood…pigeon perched on a birch； 〃Roo coo oo oo 〃
〃Cuckoo！ Cuckoo！ That's one for you！〃 A blackbird whistles； how
sharp； how shrill！ And the great trees toss And leaves blow down；
You can almost hear them splash on the ground。 The whistle again：
It is double and loud！ The leaves are splashing； And water is
dashing Over those creepers； for they are shrouds； And men are
running up them to furl the sails； For there is a capful of wind to…day；
And we are already well under way。 The deck is aslant in the bubbling
breeze。 〃Theodore； please。 Oh； Dear； how you tease！〃 And
the boatswain's whistle sounds again； And the men pull on the sheets：
〃My name is Hanging Johnny； Away…i…oh； They call
me Hanging Johnny； So hang； boys； hang。〃 The trees of
the forest are masts； tall masts； They are swinging over Her and
her lover。 Almost swooning Under the ballooning canvas；
She lies Looking up in his eyes As he bends farther over。
Theodore； still her lover！
The suds were dried upon Charlotta's hands； She leant against the table
for support； Wholly forgotten。 Theodore's eyes were brands Burning
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Men； Women and Ghosts
upon his music。 He stopped short。 Charlotta almost heard the sound of
bands Snapping。 She put one hand up to her heart； Her fingers touched
the locket with a start。
Herr Altgelt put his violin away Listlessly。 〃Lotta； I must have some
rest。 The strain will be a hideous one to…day。 Don't speak to me at all。 It
will be best If I am quiet till I go。〃 And lest She disobey； he left her。
On the stairs She heard his mounting steps。 What use were prayers！
He could not hear； he was not there； for she Was married to a mummy；
a machine。 Her hand closed on the locket bitterly。 Before her； on a chair；
lay the shagreen Case of his violin。 She saw the clean Sun flash the open
clasp。 The locket's edge Cut at her fingers like a pushing wedge。
A heavy cart went by； a distant bell Chimed ten； the fire flickered in
the grate。 She was alone。 Her throat began to swell With sobs。 What
kept her here； why should she wait？ The violin she had begun to hate Lay
in its case before her。 Here she flung The cover open。 With the fiddle
swung
Over her head； the hanging clock's loud ticking Caught on her ear。
'Twas slow； and as she paused The little door in it came open； flicking A
wooden cuckoo out： 〃Cuckoo！〃 It caused The forest dream to come
again。 〃Cuckoo！〃 Smashed on the grate； the violin broke in two。
〃Cuckoo！ Cuckoo！〃 the clock kept striking on； But no one listened。
Frau Altgelt had gone。
The Cross…Roads
A bullet through his heart at dawn。 On the table a letter signed with a
woman's name。 A wind that goes howling round the house； and weeping
as in shame。 Cold November dawn peeping through the windows； cold
dawn creeping over the floor； creeping up his cold legs； creeping over his
cold body； creeping across his cold face。 A glaze of thin yellow sunlight on
the staring eyes。 Wind howling through bent branches。 A wind which
never dies down。 Howling； wailing。 The gazing eyes glitter in the
sunlight。 The lids are frozen open and the eyes glitter。
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The thudding of a pick on hard earth。 A spade grinding and
crunching。 Overhead； branches writhing； winding； interlacing； unwinding；
scattering； tortured twinings； tossings； creakings。 Wind flinging branches
apart； drawing them together； whispering and whining among them。 A
waning； lobsided moon cutting through black clouds。 A stream of
pebbles and earth and the empty spade gleams clear in the moonlight； then
is rammed again into the black earth。 Tramping of feet。 Men and
horses。 Squeaking of wheels。
〃Whoa！ Ready； Jim？〃
〃All ready。〃 Something falls； settles； is still。 Suicides have no
coffin。
〃Give us the stake； Jim。 Now。〃
Pound！ Pound！
〃He'll never walk。 Nailed to the ground。〃
An ash stick pierces his heart； if it buds the roots will hold him。 He is a
part of the earth now； clay to clay。 Overhead the branches sway； and
writhe； and twist in the wind。 He'll never walk with a bullet in his heart；
and an ash stick nailing him to the cold； black ground。
Six months he lay still。 Six months。 And the water welled up in
his body； and soft blue spots chequered it。 He lay still； for the ash stick
held him in place。 Six months！ Then her face came out of a mist of
green。 Pink and white and frail like Dresden china； lilies…of…the…valley at
her breast； puce…coloured silk sheening about her。 Under the young
green leaves； the horse at a foot…pace； the high yellow wheels of the chaise
scarcely turning； her face； rippling like grain a…blowing； under her puce…
coloured bonnet； and burning beside her； flaming within his correct blue
coat and brass buttons； is someone。 What has dimmed the sun？ The
horse steps on a rolling stone； a wind in the branches makes a moan。 The
little leaves tremble and shak
