The stars rejoice, the shining sea presses its wildly beating heart against the shore, dew-jewels tremble on the murmuring leaves, sea-wind embraces me in gallant sport, weathercock sings and the battlements nod, lads swagger about casting fiery glances while rosy maidens strive in vain to calm their heaving bosoms full of lusty life; roses gaze patiently into the distance, torches glow and burn with delight, the forest now sheds its forbidding cloak, hark, in the town the barking dogs. And the surging tide of the staircase bears the noble hero into port, till he, upon the topmost tread, sinks into my open arms.
The stars rejoice, the shining sea presses its wildly beating heart against the shore. Dew-jewels tremble on the murmuring leaves. Sea-wind embraces me in gallant sport, Weathercock sings and the battlements nod. Lads swagger about casting fiery glances while rosy maidens strive in vain to calm their heaving bosoms full of lusty life; roses gaze patiently into the distance, torches glow and burn with delight.
The forest now sheds its forbidding cloak. Hark, in the town the barking dogs. Never have angels danced before the throne of God the way the world now dances before me. Nun sag ich dir zum ersten Mal: Now for the first time I say: And if you say I have already told you, or have ever given you my kiss, to that I say: Now for the first time l say: And if you say l have already told you.
Und sie schwinden und seufzen: It is midnight, and unholy beings rise from forgotten, sunken graves, and gaze with longing at the candles in the castle, and the cottage lights. Mocking, the wind shakes down upon them harp-songs, and the clink of goblets, and love songs. And they vanish sighing: Swelling to life, there now streams down upon me a purple rain of burning kisses, and my lips rejoice: Und wenn du erwachst: You send a loving glance at me and then avert your eyes.
That glance alone pressed your hand into mine, and now the handclasp fades. But for a love-awakening kiss you press my handclasp back against my lips. And can you then still sigh for sake of death, when just a glance can flame as does an ardent kiss? The glowing stars high in the heavens do fade at break of day, but with each midnight flame anew in their eternal splendour.
Death is so brief, like tranquil slumber between one twilight and the next. And when you waken, there upon your couch, clad in new beauty, you will see a young and radiant bride. So let us drain our goblets in a toast to him, mighty, adorning death: The glowing stars high in the heavens do fade at break of day, but with each midnight flame a new in their eternal splendour. And when you waken there upon your couch, clad in new beauty, you will see a young and radiant bride. So let us drain our goblets in a toast to Him, mighty, adorning death; for we go to the grave like a smile, dying in a rapturous kiss!
So reich durch dich nun bin ich, Dass nicht einmal mir ein Wunsch mehr eigen. Es ist so still in mir, So seltsam stille. You have made me so rich that now I wish for nothing more. My heart is so light, my mind so very clear, peace now keeps watch about my soul. As though to build a bridge a word hangs trembling on my lips, but it sinks back to rest. To me it is as if there beats within my breast your heartbeat now. Tove, as if my breathing made your bosom rise. And I see our thoughts take shape and glide together as clouds do, when they meet, which once united drift and change their shapes.
And my soul is still, I gaze into your eyes and do not speak, extraordinary Tove. So reich durch dich nun bin ich, Dass nicht einmal mehr ein Wunsch mir eigen. You have made me so rich that now l wish for nothing more. My heart is so light, my mind so very clear. Peace now keeps watch about my soul. And my soul is still. Keiner bringt ihnen Botschaft, Unwegsam der Weg. Sein Streitross, das oft zum Sieg ihn getragen, Zog den Sarg.
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Voice of the Wood-Dove: Sorrow has plagued me all along the way across the island! Curiously like a boat upon the waves, when he, for whose welcome the planks in homage curve, the steerer of the ship, lies dead, entangled in the deep seaweed. No one can bring them word, impenetrable is the way. Their thoughts were like two streams, which glided side by side. I flew far, sought for grief, and have found much! I saw the coffin on the shoulders of the king; Henning supported it; the night was dark, a lone torch burned along the way; it was the queen who held it, high upon the battlements, obsessed with thoughts of vengeance, the tears she did not wish to weep glittering in her eyes.
His battle horse, which oft carried him to victory, drew the coffin. Henning spoke to the king, who all the while looked only for a word, a glance. A monk about to pull the ropes to sound the evening Angelus, seeing the wagon driver, learned of the sad news: I flew far, sought for grief and death!
Curiously like a boat upon the waves, when he, for whose welcome the planks in homage curve, the steerer of the ship, lies dead, entangled in the deep sea-weed. The night was dark, a lone torch burned along the way; it was the queen who held it, high upon the battlements, obsessed with thoughts of vengeance, the tears she did not wish to weep glittering in her eyes. A monk about to pull the ropes to sound the evening Angelus, seeing the wagon driver, learned of the sad news. The sun sank while the bells tolled out a knell of death. Herrgott, weisst du, was du tatest, Als klein Tove mir verstarb?
Lord God, do you know what it was you did, when my little Tove died? You drove me from the last remaining refuge I had found for joy! Lord, it is meet that you should blush: Meinem Untertanen darf ich Nie die letzte Leuchte rauben. You drove me from the last remaining refuge l had found for joy! God, it is meet you should blush: Lord God, l also am a monarch and this my sovereign creed: Nach Gurrestadt seid ihr entboten, Heute ist Ausfahrt der Toten!
To your loins gird your rusted swords, from the church bring your dusty shields, grey-streaked with wasted figures. To your loins gird your rusted swords. From the church bring your dusty shields, grey-streaked with wasted figures. Coffin lids rattle and clatter, comes a heavy trotting through the night. The sod rolls off the hill; above the tombs a ringing bright as gold. The sod rolls off the hill; Above the tombs a ringing bright as gold. Screaming, sparrow-hawks swoop from the spire. Back and forth the church door flies. Dass Wiesentau aus der Wunde quillt.
Hier ist das Schloss, wie einst vor Zeiten! Greetings, King, here in Gurre-on-Sea! Let us now hunt across the island. Our arrows let fly from unstrung bows, with hollow eyes and hands of bone, to pierce the shadow of the stag. So that meadow-dew from the wound may spring.
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To the battlefield have the ravens led, over beech-tree tops our horses trot. We will hunt again in the age-old way, night after night, till the judgement day. The hunt only lasts a brief while! Here stands the castle as of old! Onward hound, onward horse! Aber Tove ist hier und Tove ist da, Tove ist fern und Tove ist nah. Das tote Herz, es schwillt, es dehnt sich, Tove, Tove, Waldemar sehnt sich nach dir!
The clouds swell like her snow-white breast. My senses strive to give her form, my thoughts struggle to find her image. But Tove is here and Tove is there, Tove is far away and Tove is near.
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Tove, is that you, bound by a strong enchantment to the splendour of the lake—and of the wood? My dead heart fills and swells, Tove, Tove, Waldemar yearns after you! Das tote Herz, es schwillt und dehnt sich, Tove, Tove, Waldemar sehnt sich nach dir! But Tove is here and Tove is there, Tove is far away, Tove is near.
Tove, is that you, bound by a strong enchantment To the splendour of the lake—and of the wood? So I have naught to offer, whether I would or no, but I would give away my nightly rest to any who can tell the reason why, with every midnight I am forced to make the circuit of this pool. So l have naught to offer, whether l would or no, but l would give away my nightly rest to any who can tell the reason why, with every midnight I am forced to make the circuit of this pool. That Palle Glob and Erik Paa do likewise, that l understand: For he was always quite ruthless, one had to be on guard at every turn, watching for danger always, with one eye.
He was, himself, the jester to the court of that great monarchy beyond the moon. Alas, that l must ride this frenzied race, my nose toward the tail, wearied to death of this wild course. Truly, the sum of all my sins is great. Ich und Tove, wir sind eins. You harsh judge up above, you scoff at my distress, but some day, at the resurrection of the flesh, mark well my words: I and Tove shall be one.
So never rend our common soul asunder, my portion into hell and hers to heaven, or I shall gain the strength to crush your angel guard and barge with my wild huntsmen into heaven. So never rend our common soul asunder, my portion into hell and hers to heaven, or l shall gain the strength to crush your angel guard and barge with my wild huntsmen into heaven.
Die Zeit ist um! The cock, about to crow, raises his head, he has the day already in his beak, and from our swords the morning dew streams, red with rust. Our time is done! With open mouth the grave calls, and earth sucks in that mystery which fears the light. Life comes with might and splendour, with deeds and pounding hearts, and we are of death, of sorrow and of death, of pain and of death.
To a rest pregnant with dreams. O could we but sleep in peace! The cock, about to crow, raises his head. He has the day already in his beak. And from our swords the morning dew streams, red with rust. Part 3 No 8: Des Sommerwindes wilde Jagd: Welch Wogen und Schwingen! Welch Ringen und Singen! Was mag der Wind nur wollen? Wie stille wards zur Stell! Ach, war das licht und hell! Erwacht, erwacht, ihr Blumen zur Wonne! Robert Franz Arnold The gnats fly anxiously about the wood grown thick with reeds, the wind has graven silver tracks into the lake.
There goes Sir Glow-worm with his fire-red tongue, the heavy meadow-mist, a pale, dead shadow! Such billowing and swaying! Such ringing and singing! Among the sheaves, the wind beats with a melancholy sense, resounding through the shaking fields of corn. With her long legs the spider fiddles, and the wind tears what she carefully has spun. Ringing, the dew drifts down into the valley. Stars shoot and vanish all at once; fleeing, the butterflies rustle through briars and hedges.
The frogs leap to moist hideaways. What can the wind want? Hier bleib ich, Tristan will ich erwarten. Have pity on me, poor wretch! Do you not know my mother's craft? Do you imagine that she, who considers everything, would have sent me away with you without means of help into a foregin land? For pain and wounds she gave ointment, for evil potions antidote; For sharpest pain, for extreme anguish she gave the death potion.
Let Death now thank her. Der Tod nun sag ihr Dank! Brangaene rises, horrified and confused. Brangaene, almost fainting, moves upstage. Isolde, summoning up all her strength for the crisis, moves slowly and with great dignity towards the couch and, leaning against it, fixes her gaze on the entrance. A debt of blood exists between us! There he stood, glorious, bold and strong; but what he swore I did not swear; I had learned to keep silent. When in my quiet chamber he lay sick, and I stood quietly before him with the sword, my lips were silent, I held my hand - but what once with my hands and lips I praised I swore to keep silent.
Now I will discharge my oath! Blutschuld schwebt zwischen uns. Da stand er herrlich, hehr und heil; doch was er schwur, das schwurt ich nicht: Da in stiller Kammer krank er lag, mit dem Schwerte stumm ich vor ihm stund: Nun will ich des Eides walten. He was betrothed to me, the bold Irish hero. I had blessed his weapons, for me he went into battle.
When he fell my honour fell too. With heavy heart I took the oath, swearing that if a man did not atone for his murder, I, the maid, would venture to do so. Sickly and feeble, in my power, why did I not strike you down then? You know well why that was so. I nursed his wounds so that, restored to strength, he would be slain in vengeance by that man who had won Isolde from him.
But now you yourself can speak your lot! Since all men have bound themselves to him, who now has to slay Tristan? Do you value so lightly what he owes you, bringing the irish maid to him as his bride? Da er gefallen, fiel meine Ehr': Siech und matt in meiner Macht, warum ich dich da nicht schlug? Das sag dir selbst mit leichtem Fug. Dein Los nun selber magst du dir sagen! Put up your sword! When I wielded it before, when vengeance tore at my breast, when your measuring gaze stole my likeness, to see if I would suit King Mark as a wife, the sword - I let it sink. Let us now drink reconciliation!
She makes a sign to Brangaene. Brangaene shudders, wavers and hesitates. Isolde urges her on with more emphatic gestures. Upper mast, take in sail! Tristan, do I win reconciliation? What have you to say to me?
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If I grasp what she concealed, I shall conceal what she does not grasp. You are evading me. Do you refuse to make atonement? Da einst ich's schwang, als mir die Rache im Busen rang: Am Obermast die Segel ein! Was hast du mir zu sagen? Before long we still be standing before King Mark. When you escort me, would it not be good if you were to speak to him thus: A more gentle wife you would never have won.
Her betrothed I once slew, his head I sent home to her. The wounds which his arms inflicted she tenderly healed. My life lay in her power; the gentle maid gave it to me, and her land's shame and disgrace she gave me with it, to be your consort. Gracious thanks for such sweet gifts were awakened in me by a sweet draught of reconciliation.
In it was contained her grace which absolved me from all guilt. Sails and mast to the wind! He seizes the goblet from her Well I know Ireland's queen and the wondrous power of her craft. I used the ointment Wir sind am Ziel: Ihren Angelobten erschlug ich ihr einst, sein Haupt sandt' ich ihr heim; die Wunde, die seine Wehr mir schuf, die hat sie hold geheilt; mein Leben lag in ihrer Macht: Das Steuer dem Strom! Den Winden Segel und Mast!
I shall take the goblet that I may be fully cleansed. And witness too the oath of reconciliation which I take, in gratitude to you. Tristan's honour, utter loyalty! Tristan's misery, keenest defiance! Heart's deceit, wishful dreaming! The only consolation in eternal mourning. Beneficent draught of forgetsulness, I drain you unweaveringly! She snatches the goblet Traitor! I drink to you!
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Then she throws the goblet aside. In the grip of terror, they gaze steadily into each other's eyes in utmost agitation, but unmoving. In their eyes deadly defiance gives way to the glow of love. They are seized with trembling. They clutch convulsively at their hearts and raise their hands to their heads. Then their eyes seek out one another, are cast down again in confusion, and meet again with growing desire ISOLDE her voice trembling Tristan! They remain in silent embrace In the distance trumpets are heard den sie bot: Ew'ger Trauer einz'ger Trost: Ich trink sie dir!
Dann wirft sie die Schale fort. BRANGAENE looking away in confusion and terror, has leaned over the rail, now turns to see the couple clasped in a loving embrace and moves downstage, wringing her hands in despair Ah! Inescapable eternal misery instead of an early death! The deceiving effects of foolish loyalty now bear their miserable fruit. How all our senses pulsate with bliss!
Longing devotion's burgeoning blossoms, yearning love's blessed glow! My breast bursting with exultant delight! Broken free of the world, won for me! You my only awareness, utmost rapture of love! The curtains are pulled apart, the whole ship is crowded with knights and sailors waving joyfully over the side towards the shore which can be seen close by, with a high, rocky fortress. Tristan and Isolde remain lost in gazing at one another, unaware of what is happening arounf them BRANGAENE to the ladies who, at her command, have come up from below deck Quickly, the mantle here, the royal raiment!
Listen, don't you hear where we are? Hail to King Mark! Long live the King! Wie alle Sinne wonnig erbeben! Jach in der Brust jauchzende Lust! Welten entronnen, du mir gewonnen! Mit reichem Hofgesinde, dort auf Nachen Lord Mark is approaching. Ah, how the journey delights him, winning a bride.
What are they calling out? What was that draught? She falls on his breast, unconscious naht Herr Marke. Oh happiness in thrall to deceit! A garden with tall trees in front of Isolde's apartments with steps leading up to it at one side. A clear, pleasant summer's night. At the open door is placed a burning torch. Brangaene, on the steps to the apartments, looks out after the hunting party as their sounds fade away into the distance.
Thay are out of my hearing already. Mir schwand schon fern der Klang. You are misled by the grove's whisperings, laughingly rustling in the wind. She listens I can hear the horns calling. ISOLDE listening again The calling of horns does not sound so sweet, it is the stream's gently murmuring waves flowing along so gaily. How could I hear that if horns were still calling? In the still of the night it is just stream that laughs with me. He who is waiting for me in the silence of the night, as if horns still sounded nearby, do you want to keep him for me?
Because you are so blinded do you imagine that the sight of the world has been dimmed for you too? When, on board ship, from Tristan's trembling hand the pallid bride, scarcely conscious, was received by King Mark, when everybody bemusedly watched her wavering there, the kingly King, with gentle concern, loudly bewailed the trials of the voyage which you had undergone. Im Schweigen der Nacht nur lacht mir der Quell.
With a threatening gaze full of malevolent guile he sought to find in his expression whatever would serve his purpose. Spitefully listening I have often found him. Of him who secretly sets snares for you both, of Melot, be warned! Oh, how mistaken you are! Is he not Tristan's dearest friend? If my beloved cannot be with me, then he is only in Melot's company. From Tristan to Mark is Melot's path: Those who decided today on this night hunt, so promptly and quickly planned, have a nobler quarry than you imagine as the target of their huntsmen's cunning. Do you now scold this faithful friend?
Better than you does he care for me; to him he opens up what you bar to me. Oh, spare me the distress of further delay! Oh, give the signal! Extinguish the light's last glimmer! That it may fall completely, give Night its signal! Ist er nicht Tristans treuester Freund? Muss mein Trauter mich meiden, dann weilt er bei Melot allein. Nun willst du den Treuen schelten? O gib das Zeichen! Dass ganz sie sich neige, winke der Nacht. Schon goss sie ihr Schweigen through the groves and the house, already it fills the heart with ecstatic terror!
Oh, extinguish the light now, extinguish its dread rays! Let my beloved come! How wretched I am! That, unfaithful just once, I betrayed my mistress's will! Had I obeyed, deaf and blind, your work would have been death! But your disgrace, your ignominious distress are my work, and I, the guilty one, must know it!
Do you not know the Love Spirit, not know her magic's power? The Queen of boldest courage, Regent of the world's course? Love and Death are subject to her, she weaves them out of bliss and sorrow, transmuting envy into love. Death's work, upon which I audaciously embarked, the Love Spirit wrested it from my power.
She took the girl destined for death under her sway and took her work into her own hands. However she performed it, however she completes it, wherever she may choose for me, wherever she may lead me, I became subject to her. Now let me display my obedience! Lass meinen Liebsten ein! Dass ich untreu einmal nur der Herrin Willen trog! Gehorcht' ich taub und blind, dein Werk war dann der Tod. Frau Minne kenntest du nicht? Nicht ihres Zaubers Macht?
Die Todgeweihte nahm sie in Pfand, fasste das Werk in ihre Hand. The gleaming signal of danger, oh, not now, do not extinguish the torch now! The will of the Love Spirit is - let it be night, that brightly she may shine forth, She hurries to the torch where she shuns your light! She takes the torch from the doorway To the tower with you!
This light, were it the light of my life, laughing, I do not hesitate to extinguish it. She throws the torch to the ground where it gradually dies out Brangaene turns away in dismay to climb an outside stairway to the tower, where she gradually disappears from sight Isolde listens and looks, timidly at first, along an avenue of trees. Moved by a growing desire she approaches the trees and looks more carefully.
She waves with a kerchief, a little at first, then, with passionate impatience, more and more quickly A gesture of sudden delight proclaims that she has noticed her beloved in the distance. Der Gefahr leuchtendes Licht, nur heute, heut'! You, clasped in my arms? O heart's rapture, o sweet, most sublime, boldest, loveliest, most blessed joy! Halt ich dich fest? Ist es kein Trug? Away for so long! So near yet how far! Wie fern so lang! So nah wie weit! Drawn-out time's lingering expanse! Oh, this light, how long before it was extinguished!
The sun set, Day ran its course but it would not stifle its spite: For Day, for spiteful Day, the most bitter foe, hatred and grievance! Just as you extinguished the light, would that I could extinguish the light of insolent Day to avenge the pangs of love! Is there any distress, is there any anguish which it does not revive with its beams? O dieses Licht, wie lang verlosch es nicht! Die Sonne sank, der Tag verging, doch seinen Neid erstickt' er nicht: Gibt's eine Not, gibt's eine Pein, die er nicht weckt mit seinem Schein?
Selbst in der Nacht darkling glory my beloved harbours it in her house, letting its threatening beams fall towards me. ISOLDE Is your beloved keeps it in her own house, so did my love once defiantly foster it in his heart, bright and devious: Tristan, he that betrayed me! Was it not Day that made him false when he came to Ireland as a suitor to court me for King Mark, to dedicate loyalty to Death? Which shimmered round about you, to there where she seemed like the sun in highest honour's radiant glow, Isolde withdrew from me! That which so delighted my eye made my heart sink to the depths of the earth: What lies did evil Day tell you that you betrayed your dearest, she that was destined to be yours?
TRISTAN In the grip of madness I could not but yeld my heart to that which shimmered round about you in majestic splendour, the glitter of honour and the power of renown. Tristan, - der mich betrog! Die mit des Schimmers hellstem Schein shining upon me with the brightest radiant glow, penetrated my head with its beams of vain bliss and reached the deepest recesses of my heart. What lay there darkly concealed in chaste night, what I dimly perceived, not knowing, not imagining; a form, which my eyes could not believe they saw, caught in the light of Day, lay there gleaming before me.
Before the whole throng I praised in clear tones what seemed to me so glorious and sublime; before all the people I extolled aloud the loveliest royal bride on earth. I bade defiance to the envy which Day awakened in me, to the zeal which threatened my happiness, to the jealousy which began to make honour and fame a burden to me, and firmly resolved to uphold honour and glory, to go to Ireland.
Deceived by that which deceived you, how I, loving you, suffered on your account; caught in Day's false glitter, in the snare of its cunning, in the depths of my heart, where burning love encompassed him, I hated him bitterly. Ah, what piercing pain in the recesses of my heart! How hard he whom I secretly harboured there must have thought me when, in the light of Day my faithfully cherished one vanished to loving eyes and stood before me only as a foe! From the light of Day which made you appear to me a traitor I wished to flee into Night, to take you with me, where my heart would bid me end all deception, where the vain premonition of treachery might be dispelled, there to pledge to you eternal love, to consecrate you to Death in company with myself.
TRISTAN When I recognised sweet death offered to me at your hand; when a bold and clear presentiment showed me what expiation demanded; there dawned gently in my heart the lofty power of Night; my Day was then accomplished. Hail to the draught! Hail to its magic's sublime power! Heil seines Zaubers hehrer Kraft! Durch des Todes Tor, wide and open it flowed towards me opening up the wondrous realm of Night where I had only been in dreams.
From the image in my heart's sheltering cell it repelled day's deceiving beams, so that in darkness my eyes might serve to see it clearly. ISOLDE Yet banished Day avenged itself; with yours sins it took counsel; what darkling Night showed you you had to surrender to the regal power of the Day-star, to live alone, gleaming there in solitary splendour.
How could I bear it? How can I endure it now? Spiteful Day with ready envy could part us with its tricks but no longer mislead us with guile. Its vain glory, its flaunting display are mocked by those to whom Night has granted sight. The fleeting flashes of its flickering light no longer dazzle us. Wie ertrug ich's nur? Wie ertrag ich's noch? Seine eitle Pracht, seinen prahlenden Schein verlacht, wem die Nacht den Blick geweiht: Wer des Todes Nacht liebend erschaut, wem sie ihr tief Geheimnis vertraut: Amid the vain fancy of Day he still harbours one desire - the yearning for sacred Night where, all-eternal, true alone, love's bliss smiles on him!
Night soon melts away. Bald entweicht die Nacht. Yours and mine, Isolde's love? What strokes of death could ever make it yeld? If mighty Death stood before me threatening the very life in my body which I would so gladly leave for love, how could it reach love itself? Were I to give my life to that for which I would so gladly die, how could love die with me, the ever-living end with me? And if his love were never to die how could Tristan die of his love? This sweet little word: Tristan with a meaningful gesture, gently draws Isolde to him Dein' und mein', Isoldes Liebe?
Night soon gives way to Day. Schon weicht dem Tag die Nacht. Gloriously sublime Night of love! Those whom you have embraced, upon whom you have smiled, how could they ever waken without fear? Now banish dread, sweet death, yearned for, longed for death-in-love! In your arms, consecrated to you, sacred elemental quickening force, free from the peril of waking! How to grasp it, how to leave it, this bliss far from the sun's, far from Day's parting sorrows! Free from delusion gentle yearning, free from fearing sweet longing. Free from sighing sublime expiring.
Free from languishing enclosed in sweet darkness. No evasion no parting, just we alone, ever home, in unmeasured realms of ecstatic dreams. Nun banne das Bangen, holder Tod, sehnend verlangter Liebestod! In deinen Armen, dir geweiht, urheilig Erwarmen, von Erwachens Not befreit! They remain in a rapturous embrace neu Erkennen, neu Entbrennen; endlos ewig, ein-bewusst: Kurwenal, Brangaene, Mark, Melot and Courtiers. Brangaene emits a shrill cry. Horrified, he casts a glance offstage.
Mark, Melot and courtiers in hunting dress come rapidly from the avenue of trees and stop in horror at the sight of the lovers. Brangaene climbs down from the tower and runs to Isolde. Isolde, involuntarily seized by a sense of shame, leans back, her face turned aside, on the flowery bank. Tristan, also in spite of himself, raises his cloak on his arm so that it conceals Isolde from the sight of those just arrived. He remains in this position for a long period, unmoving, his cold gaze fixed on the men who, in various attitudes, fasten their eyes on him.
To give you my pledge with my head as the bond? I have shown him to you in the very act; your name and honour I have loyally preserved from disgrace. MARK in a state of profound shock, in a trembling voice Have you indeed? Is that what you think? Look at him there, the most faithful of the loyal. Cast your eyes upon him, the dearest of friends. His loyalty's freest deed pierced my heart with its hostile treachery!
If Tristan betrayed me, am I to hope that what his treachery has cost me should by Melot's counsel honestly be restored to me? MARK deeply affected This to me? This, Tristan, to me? Whither has loyalty fled now that Tristan has betrayed me? Das dir zum Pfand ich gab, ob ich mein Haupt gewahrt? Ich zeigt' ihn dir in offner Tat: Namen und Ehr' hab ich getreu vor Schande dir bewahrt. Sieh ihn dort, den treuesten aller Treuen; blick auf ihn, den freundlichsten der Freunde: Wohin nun Ehr' and honesty, now that the champion of all honour, Tristan, has lost it? As Tristan appointed himself its emblem, where has virtue flown to, fleeing from my friend, from Tristan, who has betrayed me?
Tristan slowly lowers his gaze; while Mark continues there can be read in his expression growing sadness Why did you serve me for so long? Why the reputation of honour, the power and greatness which you won for King Mark? Did the honour and renown, greatness and power, the services beyond number, have to be repaid by Mark's dishonour? Did you value so lightly his gratitude which gave you as your very own inheritance that which you had won for him, his renown and his Kingdom?
When, childless, his wife died, he loved you so much that never again did Mark intend to wed. When all the people from court and country thronged to him, begging and imploring him to give the country a queen and to take for himself a wife; when you yourself swore to your uncle that you would carry out the wishes of the court and the will of the country, then, against the wishes of court and country, in opposition even to you, with circumspection and kindness he declined until you, Tristan, threatened und echte Art, da aller Ehren Hort, da Tristan sie verlor?
Die Tristan sich zum Schild erkor, wohin ist Tugend nun entflohn, da meinen Freund sie flieht, da Tristan mich verriet? And so he let it be. This glorious woman that your courage won for me, who could behold her, who could know her, who could proudly call her his own and not think himself blessed? She, whom I could never dare approach, she for whom I foreswore my desires in bashful reverence, so splendid, so lovely, so sublime, who could not but refresh my soul, despite enemies and dangers this royal bride you presented to me. Now, since by such a possession you rendered my heart more open to pain than before, there, where I was rendered soft, sensitive and exposed was I stricken without hope that I might ever be healed.
Why so sorely, wretched man, did you wound me there now? There, with the weapon of tormenting poison, searing and maiming my senses and my mind so that my fidelity to my friend is stifled, my open heart filled with suspicion, so that now, secretly and in the dead of night I creep up on you, my friend, eavesdropping, and see my honour ended? No heaven will redeem it for me - why this hell for me?
The uncharted depths of its mysterious causes, who will make them known to the world? He turns to Isolde who looks up at him longingly Wherever Tristan now goes will you, Isolde, follow him? To that land of which Tristan spoke, where the sun's light does not shine; it is the dark land of Night out of which my mother sent me when he, whom she bore on her deathbed, left her in death to reach the light. From that which, when she bore me, was her fortress of love, the wondrous realm of Night, I then awoke.
That is what Tristan offers you, thither he will precede you. Whether she will follow him in grace and faith, let Isolde now tell him. Now you are returning to your own estates to show me your inheritance; how could I flee that land that spans the whole world? Wherever Tristan's home may be, there let Isolde go, there let her follow him in grace and faith, warum mir diese Schmach?
Den unerforschlich tief geheimnisvollen Grund, wer macht der Welt ihn kund? Dem Land, das Tristan meint, der Sonne Licht nicht scheint: Was, da sie mich gebar, ihr Liebesberge war, das Wunderreich der Nacht, aus der ich einst erwacht; das bietet dir Tristan, dahin geht er voran: Wo Tristans Haus und Heim, da kehr Isolde ein: Tristan bends over her and kisses her gently on the forehead. Will you suffer this shame? He fixes his gaze on Melot This was my friend, exalted and dear was his devotion to me; for my honour and reputation none was more concerned than he.
To impetuousness he drove my heart; he led the crowd that urged me to add to my honour and renown and to give you to the King as bride! The sight of you, Isolde, blinded him too. Out of jealousy I was betrayed by my friend to the King, whom I had betrayed. He strides up to Melot Defend yourself, Melot! As Melot raises his sword towards him, Tristan lowers his and falls wounded into Kurwenal's arms.
Isolde falls upon his breast. Mark holds Melot back. Duldest du diese Schmach? Er heftet den Blick auf Melot Mein Freund war der, er minnte mich hoch und teuer; um Ehr' und Ruhm mir war er besorgt wie keiner. Er dringt auf Melot ein Wehr dich, Melot! At one side a tall castle building, at the other a low parapet with a look-out post; upstage the castle gate.
The location can be seen as being a rock height; through openings the sea and the distant horizon can be seen. The whole scene conveys an impression of being deserted, ill-tended, here and there in poor repair and overgrown. Downstage, inside the wall, Tristan is lying in the shade of a tall lime-tree, asleep on a couch, laid out as if lifeless. At his head sits Kurwenal, bent over him in anguish and carefully listening to his breathing. As the curtain goes up there can be heard from outside the gate a shepherd playing a sad, yearning tune on a reed-pipe.
Im Vordergrunde, an der inneren Seite, liegt Tristan, unter dem Schatten einer grossen Linde, auf einem Ruhebett schlafend, wie leblos ausgestreckt. Kurwenal partly turns his head towards him Is he still not awake? KURWENAL sadly shaking his head Were he to waken it would only be to depart for ever, if she, the healer, does not first appear, the only one who can succour us.
Have you seen nothing yet? Still no ship out at sea? Now, tell me truly, my old friend, what ails our lord? You can never know. Keep a sharp look-out, and if you see a ship play merrily and clearly! Kurwenal wendet ein wenig das Haupt nach ihm Wacht er noch nicht? Kein Schiff noch auf der See? Nun sag auch ehrlich, alter Freund: Why does it waken me?
Life, oh life, sweet life, restored to my Tristan! Where have I been? In peace, safe and free, in Kareol, my lord! Do you not recognise the castle of your fathers? In Frieden, sicher und frei!
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- Tristan und Isolde libretto (English/German) - opera by Richard Wagner!
Yours is the house, court and castle! The people, loyal to their dear lord, as well as they could manage, have looked after the house and court which once my lord, as their very own heritage, granted to the people when he left it all behind to travel to a foregin land. To Cornwall; bravely and gaily, what glory, fortune and honour Tristan my hero won for himself there! How did you get here? You didn't come on horseback; a boat brought you here. Dein das Haus, Hof und Burg! Das Volk, getreu dem trauten Herrn, so gut es konnt', hat's Haus und Hof gepflegt, das einst mein Held zu Erb' und Eigen an Leut' und Volk verschenkt, als alles er verliess, in fremde Land' zu ziehn.
Now you are home, at home in your own country; really at home in your mother country; amidst your own meadows and delights, in the light of the old sun where from death and from your wounds you will blessedly be healed. I know differently but I am not able to tell you. Where I awoke, there I was not, but where I was I cannot tell you. I did not see the sun, nor did I see land and people; but what I did see I cannot tell you.
I was where I had been before I was and where I am destined to go, in the wide realm of the Night of the world. But one certain knowledge is ours there: How did I cease to perceive it? Yearning remembrance did I call you, driving me on anew towards the light of Day. The one thing that I remembered, a warm and ardent love drives me from the terror of Death's bliss to see the Light, which, deceiving, bright and golden, still shines about you, Isolde! Kurwenal, in the grip of terror, hides his face.
Tristan gradually raises himself up Isolde still trug ich dich; - die sind breit: Nun bist du daheim, daheim zu Land: Ich weiss es anders, doch kann ich's dir nicht sagen. Wo ich erwacht, - weilt' ich nicht; doch, wo ich weilte, das kann ich dir nicht sagen. Die Sonne sah ich nicht, noch sah ich Land und Leute: Ich war, wo ich von je gewesen, wohin auf je ich geh': Nur ein Wissen dort uns eigen: Kurwenal birgt, von Grausen gepackt, sein Haupt.
In the shimmer of Day still, Isolde! To see her, what desire! The crash that I heard behind me was Death's door closing: Alas, there now rise up within me, pale and fearful, Day's wild urgings; baleful and deceiving its orb rouses my mind to deceit and folly! Accursed Day with your light! Will you for ever be witness to my anguish? Will it burn for ever, this Light, which even at night kept me from her?
Ah, Isolde, sweet beauty! When at last, when, oh when will you extinguish the spark, that I may know my fortune? The light - when will it be extinguished? He sinks back, exhausted When will Night come to the house? Im Tagesschimmer noch Isolde! Sie zu sehen, welch Verlangen! Verfluchter Tag mit deinem Schein! Wachst du ewig meiner Pein? Brennt sie ewig, diese Leuchte, die selbst nachts von ihr mich scheuchte? Belive what I say: Isolde still lives and keeps watch; she called me out of the Night. Even if you think Kurwenal is foolish, today you will not scold him.
As if dead you lay there since that day when Melot, the villain, dealt you a wound. That evil wound, how to heal it? To me, simple that I am, it rather seems that she who once before eased for you the torment of Morold's wound, she could easily heal the torment of Melot's sword. The best physician [Isolde] I soon discovered: Isolde lebt und wacht; sie rief mich aus der Nacht. Muss Kurwenal dumm dir gelten, heut' sollst du ihn nicht schelten.
Wie tot lagst du seit dem Tag, da Melot, der Verruchte, dir eine Wunde schlug. He struggles for the words Oh faith! He embraces Kurwenal My Kurwenal, dearest friend! Unshakeably faithful, how is Tristan to thank you? My shield and my guard in battle and strife, in merrymaking and sorrow always by my side. He that I hated, you hated too. Him I worshipped, you worshipped too.
To the good King Mark, when I served him well, you were truer than Gold! When I had to betray that noble lord, how glad you were to betray him too! This fearful longing that sears me; this languishing flame that consumes me; were I to give you its name, could you know it, you would not tarry here, you would hurry away to keep watch - with all your senses longing to get away to keep careful watch for their billowing sails before the wind where, aflame with the urgings of love, to find me, Isolde is sailing towards me.
Er ringt gleichsam nach Sprache O Treue! Er zieht Kurwenal an sich und umarmt ihn Mein Kurwenal, du trauter Freund! Du Treuer ohne Wanken, wie soll dir Tristan danken? Dem guten Marke, dient' ich ihm hold, wie warst du ihm treuer als Gold! Musst' ich verraten den edlen Herrn, wie betrogst du ihn da so gern! Dir nicht eigen, einzig mein, mit leidest du, wenn ich leide: Es naht speedy and brave! It waves, it waves, the flag on the mast. There it goes past the reef! Can't you see it? As Kurwenal hesitates, so as not to leave Tristan, and the latter looks at him, silent and tense, there sounds out, as before, at first near by and then in the distance the plaintive tune of the shepherd KURWENAL disheartened Still no ship in sight!
TRISTAN has been listening with failing enthusiasm, now with growing melancholy Must I understand you thus, you ancient, solemn tune with your plaintive tones? Through the evening air it came, fearfully, as once it brought news to the child of his father's death. Through the grey light of morning, ever more fearful, as the son became aware of his mother's lot.
As he begat me and died, so, dying, she bore me. That ancient tune of anxious yearning sounded its lament to them too, asking me then, and asking me now, for what fate was I then born? The ancient tune tells me once more: That is not it! While dying to yearn, but not to die of yearning! Never dying, yearning, calling out mit mutiger Hast! Sie weht, sie weht - die Flagge am Mast.