L’Enfant
et les Sortilèges
Original
Text By Colette
Music By Maurice Ravel
New
English Translation By Byrwec Ellison (2002)
Translator’s
Note:
Colette
penned this sweet children’s fable near the end of World War I, and it was in
the early to mid 1920s that Maurice Ravel fashioned it into their collaborative
opera-ballet “L’Enfant et les Sortilèges.” Professional opera companies favor
works of romance or high drama for their stages, but this piece has found an
important niche in the repertory of music schools because of its several cameo
roles - particularly for female
voices.
Few
companies present opera in the local language anymore,
but “L’Enfant” is one piece that can always use a modern, updated translation.
Its intended audience - a hall full of young children - has little patience for supertitles let alone opera
in a foreign language. Moreover, the topical references in Colette’s Jazz Age
libretto would surely be lost on kids born since, say, 1990 (not to mention
their Boomer and Gen X parents).
Which is why I decided to have some fun with
a new English translation/adaptation of “L’Enfant.” There are many possible approaches to
crafting one. This version keeps scrupulously true to the rhythmic meter and
musical inflections of Ravel’s score - and to a degree, to the declamation of key
vowels. The storyline also remains more or less intact. However, I’ve been less
faithful to the precise text. The child in this version is a bit older, and he
and his world are very far removed from the one that Colette and Ravel knew and
are much more a product of our own time.
In a few years’ time, this version will also become a relic of its time
and be rendered obsolete by the changing world, though the meaning and message
of the original fable will remain timeless. In the meantime, the full libretto
with original French text and this English “translation” is available by
e-mailing to this link.
Byrwec Ellison
L’ENFANT ET LES SORTILÊGES
The scene is a child’s bedroom
in a country house (low ceiling) opening on a garden. A
modern house with futons and bean bags for furnishings, a TV, a digital clock
radio with big number display and a PC. Wallpaper depicting dinosaurs. A round cage with a squirrel in it, hanging near a window. A large fireplace where a small fire burns peacefully. A cat
purrs. It is afternoon. CHILD (nine or ten years old, seated doing his
homework. He is in a fit of laziness. He chews his pencil, rubs his head and
sings in quiet exasperation):
I’d yank this cat’s tail like a curtain cord
And then cut off that skuzzy little squirrel’s.
I could scream and out-cuss everybody!
I’d give my Mom a fat time-out so she’d be grounded…
(The door opens. Mama enters
[or whatever is visible of her given the low ceiling and large exaggerated
scale of the room furnishings which make the child appear that much smaller],
that is, her skirt or pantsuit, a Williams-Sonoma apron and a large hand [such
as the kind sold as a novelty at baseball games]. The hand is raised with index
finger pointing in an interrogating manner as Mama inquires):
MAMA
Baby, have we been cool?
And done our work for school?
(No answer from the Child, who slinks down in his bean bag. The mother advances, finger pointing at the notebook. The other hand delivers a TV tray with a pitcher and a glass of iced tea.)
MAMA
Hey! Where’s your homework? There’s ink all over the Berber carpet here! Now, will you say you’re sorry?
(No answer from the Child.)
MAMA
Just do your work, Baby, and we’ll be cool.
(Silence.)
MAMA
Will you look me in the eye at least?
(In response, Baby looks up at her and gives her
“the back of his hand.”)
MAMA
Oh!!!…
(The arm and hand go akimbo. The other hand removes
a sugar bowl and jam jar from the tray.)
MAMA
severely
Here’s all the snack that a
sassy boy gets:
Iced tea unsweetened, (toast
without) jam.
Stay in your room until you’re done!
And rethink your lazy ass!
And rethink your attitude!
Think hard, what it takes to get back on my good
side!
(She locks the TV cable box and leaves the room. The Child, by himself
now, is overtaken by a fit of nastiness. He stomps and shouts at the door as
loudly as he can):
CHILD
What’s it to me?! What do I care?!
I don’t want any snack!
I don’t need anyone pushing me around!
I’m full of sass!
Sass comes out my ass!
My ass! My ass! My ass!
(He tips the TV tray over and sends the pitcher and glass shattering on the floor. Next he mounts the windowsill, opens the squirrel’s cage and jabs the animal with his pencil. The injured squirrel cries out and scampers up to the window valence. The Child jumps down from the window and pulls the cat’s tail. The cat hisses and ducks under a futon)
CHILD
full of himself
BOO-YEAH!
(He brandishes the iron poker, stirs up the fire and kicks over the fireplace caddy, sending up a cloud of cinder and smoke.)
CHILD
same
BOO-YEAH! BOO-YEAH!
(He thrusts the poker like a sword and attacks the
little characters in the wallpaper, which he tears. He rips down large sections of paper sheets
from the wall.)
CHILD
howling
Boo-Yeah!
(He rips the digital clock radio from the wall outlet and stomps on it. He knocks over the TV set and the PC as well, then rips out the pages from his notebook and throws them into the air.)
Boo-Yeah! Oops there it goes! Clumsy of me!
Now I’m free, free, badass and free!
(Breathless and full of his destructive handiwork, he goes to jump into a large futon upholstered in rocketship print material when - surprise! - the futon shudders, ejects him off and sends him tumbling to the floor. The futon quickly backs off and slinks along like a big toad.)
CHILD
distressed
Ah!…
(Having taken three steps back, the futon steps up heavily and cheerfully, greets a beanbag chair, which he leads out for a grotesque ancient dance. While they dance):
FUTON
Your humble servant, dear
Bean Bag chair.
BEANBAG
reverently
The honor’s mine, Old Futon.
FUTON
Let’s wash our hands, let’s wash them once
And for all of this bad boy’s
Fricking, kicking heels.
BEANBAG
Now you’re talking, now I hear you. Word up!
FUTON
No more plush cushions for his sleep,
No more dreamy posturpedic
nights,
This hardwood floor’s just
right for his lumbar support.
And what’s more? Who knows?
BEANBAG
Then again… who knows?
FUTON
Let’s wash our hands, let’s wash them once
And for all of this bad boy’s
Fricking, kicking heels.
BEANBAG
Let’s wash our hands, let’s wash them once
And for all of this bad
boy.
FUTON
The bench,
BEANBAG
The sofa bed,
FUTON
The poof…
BEANBAG
…and the La-Z-Boy chair.
FUTON
We’ve had enough, we’re through with that brat.
(The aforementioned pieces of furniture lift up
their arms and legs and join in unison)
ENSEMBLE
Through with the brat!
(Paralyzed with shock, the Child looks and listens, his back against the wall.)
DIGITAL CLOCK RADIO
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!…
Here I go buzz, buzz, buzz!
Here I go buzz, there I go buzz!
I don’t know what time it is anymore!
I couldn’t say night or day!
My LED is DOA!
He’s a butt in the pain, this Child!
He mega-hurts my FM dial!
I need to hit my snooze all day!
(The clock runs about on two stubby feet protruding from his base. He has a revolving digital number display in constant motion over his head and two short, flailing arms
CHILD
afraid
Talk radio clock?!
DIGITAL CLOCK
Buzz, buzz, buzz…
Let me by or let me be,
Let me hide my face in shame for,
Wailing like this at my age!
Me, I worked hard to keep him on prime time,
Time to go to bed, when to go to school,
Time when he could wait for his rendez to vous,
That gentle hour when he first came into this world!
Perhaps he thought, if he carved up my face,
That nothing ever would change,
In his little world.
And maybe he wouldn’t have to grow up…
Or maybe no one would ever leave him,
If I just stopped keeping track of all tic-talk,
Forever!
Ah! Let me slink away and to a corner crawl,
My nose against the wall!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz…
(Quickly running out of reserve battery power, the clock’s buzz grows dimmer as he crosses the room, faces the wall and freezes in place.)
(Two nasal voices can be heard on the floor.)
ICED TEA PITCHER
(Mikasa glass)
How’s your mug?
ICED TEA GLASS
Rotten!
PITCHER
…better had…
GLASS
Come on!
PITCHER
to the Child, in a harmlessly threatening manner, as one who thinks he is a champion boxer
Clear as crystal,
Clear as glass, glass, glass, glass,
Jolly fellow, jolly fellow, glass!
I punch, Sir, your Phil Glass jaw,
I punch!
I knock out you
Glass, glass and cheek,
And vrai beau gloss, and
vrai beau gloss,
I box you, I box you, I mess up you…
GLASS
to the Child, threatingly
Mi-ka-sa, Daewoo,
Di-ge-mon,
Puis’-hong-kong-san-wa,
Po-ke-mon, ho-ke-mon, fo-ke-mon,
I-chi-ro, hara-kiri,
chow-yun-fat, S.I. Hayakawa,
Ho-ho-ho, I-chi-ro, I-chi-ro-ho,
I-chi-ro, I-chi-ro,
I-chi-ro, toujours l’air
Nippon-wa.
(Foxtrot)
GLASS
Ho! I-chi-ro, toujours,
Toujours, I-chi-ro, I-chi-ro
l’air Nippon-wa.
PITCHER
Ho! I-chi-ro, toujours l’air
Nippon-wa.
PITCHER
I box you!… I box you!…
GLASS
PITCHER AND GLASS
…
Noh-doh ga Ka-wa-ki-mas!
CHILD
stricken
Oh! My grandma’s Japanese glass!
(The sun is going down, its horizontal rays now
turning red. The Child cowers in fear and loneliness; he moves toward the fire,
which spits burning embers in his face.)
FIRE
bounding from the chimney, thin,
white and flickering.
Get away!
I warm up the good kids, I warm up the good kids, but,
I burn up brats like you!
You little twit, you’ve really done it,
You have spat in the face of
all good gracious fate,
That protects you from all that I can do!
Boy, you’re playing with FIRE!
Ah!…
You did brandish the poking rod,
Kicked over the ash pot,
And scattered the matches
all over the place! Boy!
Boy, beware of Fire!
You’ll be a sizzling snowflake on my red-hot tongue!…
Boy! I warm up the good kids!
Boy! I burn up all the brats!
Boy! Boy! Ah! I’ll burn YOU!
(The Fire lunges and pursues the Child, who hides behind the furniture. A step behind the Fire is Cinder. She is gray, undulating and mute, and the Fire doesn’t see her at first. When he finally notices her, he plays with her. She plays with him. She tries to smother the Fire with her long, gray wings. He laughs, gets away and dances on. The play continues until finally, tired of fighting, the Fire submits to her. He tries one last time to free himself, flares up for an instant, then falls asleep in her long arms and wings. The moment he stops burning, shadows invade the room. It’s past dusk, the stars are visible in the window and the light indigo sky foretells the coming of a full moon.)
CHILD
I’m scared, I’m scared…
(Little whiffs of laughter answer him. He looks about and sees the shreds of wallpaper rising up. A cortège of dinosaurs on the printed-paper makes its way toward him, a little goofy but touching. There is a She Rex, a boy velociraptor, triceratops, pterodactyl, etc… Medieval music of pipes and tambourines accompanies them.)
BOY DINOSAURS
Farewell, dinosaur girls!
GIRL DINOSAURS
replying
Raptor boys, farewell!
BOYS
We’ll never play in Mesozoic swamps,
Or dance the T. Rex Stomp!
GIRLS
We’ll never play in Mesozoic swamps,
Or dance the T. Rex Stomp!
BOYS
There, our big blue dragonfly!
GIRLS
There, our sea green trilobite,
BOYS
There, fields of fresh purple cycads!
BOYS AND GIRLS
Our red pet sloth!
BOYS
Our outstretched paws, dino girls,
GIRLS
Our heart on jaws, raptor boys,
BOYS
Our love would never be extinct,
So we thought.
GIRLS
In a million years, so we thought.
A BOYOSAURUS
Triceratops and archaeopt’x
will never play again
In blue Triassic pastures.
Stegosaurs right here, brontosaurs over there,
Thanks to that boy, whose primal joy,
Was his reptile wallflo’ers.
A GIRLOSAURUS
Stegosaurs right here,
Brontosaurs over there,
Thanks to that boy, whose primal joy,
Was his reptile wallflo’ers.
A BOYOSAURUS
Stegosaurs right here,
Brontosaurs over there,
Thanks to that boy, whose primal joy,
Was his reptile wallflo’ers.
GIRLOSAURUS
That spoiled child who slept while under eye of
Our old cherry sloth.
There, our big blue dragonfly!
BOYOSAURUS
See you la-a-ter allosaur!
BOY DINOSAURS
Farewell, dinosaur girls!
GIRL DINOSAURS
Raptor
boys, farewell!
(Ballet of little dinosaurs, who express in dance, their sorrow over being rent apart. They exit, and with them goes the music of pipes and tambourines. The Child is stretched out on the floor, head buried in his crossed arms. He cries. He lies by the overturned TV set, whose screen begins to glow as if it were tuned into a broadcast. The Child lifts his head to see the image of an adorable princess, who emerges out of the screen. She seems dazed in a dreamy languor and stretches out her arms, which are weighted down in a white flowing tunic.)
CHILD
marveling
Ah! She’s here! She’s here!
PRINCESS
Ah! Yes, I’m here, your Star Fleet Princess Lei,
Whither to boldly come hither and play, it’s all
In your dreams.
I whose pilot debuted only just last night,
And kept you awake for two hours.
You know my theme song by heart now:
“She has gold hair,
And both her eyes, the tint of skies.”
You sought me out in the
heat of the sweeps week,
And in the glut of airtime
ads.
You sought me out, my peewee lover boy,
And I was, yesterday, your faithful girlfriend!
But you have overturned the box.
What will become of me next week?
Who knows if the bad dark-hooded knight
Will come cast me under his hypnotic pow’r,
Or blast me to gas with his ray?
Now, don’t you feel the
least little bit of my pain,
To screw me over like so, me your Princess?…
CHILD
trembling
Oh! Please don’t go yet! Wait! Tell me…
Your little chirping robot
friend?
PRINCESS
See this train wreck, all this broken glass…
CHILD
anxiously
Your magic choker, what happened to it?
PRINCESS
See all these jagged chips, just glass…
CHILD
Your Jedi knight?
Lord Lance of the Storm
Galaxy Wor Thun?
Tron, his laser saber in hand!
If I had a light sword! A light sword!
Come! To my arms, to my arms!
Please, please! I could be your white knight!
PRINCESS
twisting her arms
Too bad, my puny, ten-ounce boyfriend,
What could you do for me?
Do you know how long a dream is?
My own has seemed like ten lifetimes,
At the end of this cliffhanger, it
Might have been you all along, who would come rescue
me!…
(The TV screen opens up and
engulfs her; she cries out):
Oh, help me! Please, help me!
The network wants to cancel my show!
Oh, help!
(The Child tries in vain to
hold onto her by long hair, her robe, her long white
hands):
CHILD
Where’s my sword! Where’s my
sword! Where’s my sword!
(But an invisible force swallows up the Princess and draws her back into the TV set.
CHILD
alone and miserable, quietly
You, the love of my heart,
You were the pearl of my eye,
You, your lips, your hands, your hair,
Your blue eyes and your sweet
smile…
Now you’ve gone away and
left me like a moonbeam,
A golden hair upon my cheek,
A golden hair…the memory of a dream…
(He leans down and twists the television dial in a vain attempt to find the Princess’ broadcast signal…)
Zilch… Nothing’s on but this public TV,
Just
(He kicks the set with his foot, but little gremlin
voices call out to him from the PC monitor, from which emerge the specters of
little puppets. Breaking through the crowd of them comes a little man (bearing
some resemblance to an Einstein) with long, gray disheveled hair; an old gray
sweater; and a pipe, which he uses as a pointer stick. He holds a small
blackboard with which he beats time, and he prances around in little dance
steps as he recites word problems):
LITTLE OLD MAN
Water out of two pipes flows into a pool!
Two cabs leave the depot right at
Intervals of twenty minutes every hour,
Hour, hour, hour!
Once a country peasant,
Peasant, peasant, peasant,
Carried all his eggs to market!
Then an advertiser,
Iser, tiser, tiser,
Bought up sixty seconds airtime!
(He glimpses the Child, then
approaches in a menacing way.)
CHILD
freaking out
acquiescingly
Tickle, tickle, tickle!
(He dances around the Child in a more harassing way)
PUPPETS
rising up and shrieking
Tickle, tickle, tickle!
LITTLE OLD MAN
in falsetto
Eight and eight, twenty,
Twelve and six, thirteen,
Eight and eight, twenty,
Nine from three, sixteen.
CHILD
Nine from three, sixteen?
PUPPETS
rising up and shrieking
Nine from three, sixteen!
CHILD
Eight and eight?
LITTLE OLD MAN
Twenty!
CHILD
Twelve and six?
LITTLE OLD MAN
Thirteen!
CHILD
Three from nine, thousand!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Millimeter,
Centimeter,
Decimeter,
Decameter,
Hectometer,
Kilometer,
Rhythmic meter,
Glad to meet ‘er,
Bottom feeder!
Two million,
Four billion,
Five trillion,
And the ga-zillions!
PUPPETS
Water out of two pipes flows into a pool!
Two cabs leave the depot right at
Intervals of twenty minutes every -
LITTLE OLD MAN
Once a country peasant,
Peasant, peasant, peasant,
Carried all his -
PUPPETS
Then an advertiser,
Iser, tiser, tiser,
Bought up sixty -
LITTLE OLD MAN
Water out of two pipes flows into a, to-a, to-a,
to-a pool!
PUPPETS
Once a country peasant,
peasant, peasant, peasant,
Takes them all to town -
LITTLE OLD MAN
(Foolish round in which the Child is pulled along and harassed, then falls out of the circle and spills out onto the floor.)
Three from nine?
PUPPETS
Thousand!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Two from six?
PUPPETS
Sixty!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Eight and eight?
PUPPETS
Eight and eight? Eight and
eight? Eight and eight?
LITTLE OLD MAN
Three from nine?
PUPPETS
Thousand!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Two from six?
PUPPETS
Sixty!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Eight and eight?
PUPPETS
Eight and eight? Eight and
eight? Eight and eight?
LITTLE OLD MAN AND PUPPETS
Two from six, thirty-one!
Four and eight, fifty-nine!
Two from six, thirty-one!
Four and eight, fifty-nine!
Five from five, forty-four!
Eight and four, fifty-five!
Five from five, forty-four!
Eight and four, fifty-five!
PUPPETS
Eight and eight, five and six… waaaah!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Twenty! Thirty! Ahhhh!
The old man and chorus draw back.
LITTLE OLD MAN
(practically a whisper)
Eight and eight, twenty!
PUPPETS
Twelve and six, thirteen!
Thousand!
LITTLE OLD MAN
Tw’neee!
(The Child struggles to sit himself up. The moon is out and now illuminates the room. The black tomcat inches out from under the futon. He stretches, yawns and licks himself. The Child at first doesn’t notice him and wearily sprawls on the floor, his head on a cushion. The tom plays with a ball of yarn. He approaches the Child and plays with his head as if it were a ball):
CHILD
Oh! My head! My head!
(He props up and sees the tomcat.)
It’s you, Cat?
Boy, you are big and surreal!
You talk as well, no doubt.
(The tomcat hisses and
swipes at the Child, then turns away. He plays with his ball. The white she-cat
appears in the garden. The tomcat is distracted from his game.)
(Mewling
duet.)
(The tomcat joins the
she-cat. The Child follows him apprehensively, attracted by the garden. At this
moment, the walls and ceiling fly away and the Child finds himself transported
with the two cats into the garden illuminated by the full moon and the rosy
glow of sunset. Trees, flowers, a little green pool, a huge tree trunk clothed
in ivy. Music of insects, tree frogs, toads; the laughs of
screech owls; the murmurs of night breeze and nightingales.)
CHILD
opening
his arms
Ah! I’m so happy to be in my backyard!
(He leans against the tree trunk, which groans.)
CHILD
newly
afraid
Wha-?
THE BIG TREE
groaning
Oh my back… oh my back…
CHILD
Your back hurts?
BIG TREE
What did you expect ripping into my flank?
A cold steel blade you slashed me with…
It hurts! It’s still raw and oozing sap…
OTHER TREES
groaning
and rocking in pain
Our backs… our backs…
These open gashes, they’re raw and still oozing sap …
Butcher boy!
(The Child, moved to pity,
hugs the tree cheek to bark. A passing dragonfly chirps and disappears. She
returns and makes several passes. Others follow. A rose-laurel moth imitates
her. Other moths, other dragonflies.
DRAGONFLY
The one that passed by
first, singing and flying
Are you there?
I can’t find you…
In the net…
Your were caught…
My dear love,
Lithe and long,
Your turquoise,
Your topaz,
Will the wind you
Loved soon blow you
Back to me?…
Lonesome, longing,
You I seek…
You I search for…
To the Child while flying
around his head):
Bring her back!
Where is she?
My soul mate,
Bring her back!
Bring her back!
Bring her back!
Give her back!
CHILD
I wish I could! I wish I could!
DRAGONFLY
insistent
Where is she?
CHILD
turning
away
I don’t know…
(to himself) The dragonfly that I caught right here…
Just yesterday… I pinned her to my wall (horrified.)
Ah!…
BAT
in
the air
Bring her back… Tsk, Tsk…
Back her back… Tsk…
Where’s my mate… The flying bat…
You saw?
CHILD
head
hanging
I saw!
BAT
flying
Your baton… Tsk, tsk…
You chased her… here last night… Tsk…
Then you beat her…
Poor little creature lying there, dead at your feet…
CHILD
Oh, god!
BAT
Our nest…
Baby bats…
Where’s their mother?
They need… tsk, tsk,
They need to eat now…
CHILD
No mother!…
BAT
And now, we… tsk, tsk…
Now we fly.
Now we hunt…
Now we dive…
Now we hunt…
Now we snatch… tsk… tsk…
All your fault…
(Round of
bats. Below, a little tree frog emerges from the pool, leans on
the edge on two legs. Another does so, and then another until the pool’s edge
is lined with tree frogs one against the other. Croaking, they jump and play in
froglike frolic. One of them, having danced awhile, leans up against the
Child’s knee with two hands.)
SQUIRREL
(dryly,
from up in the tree, amid the noise of cracking hazelnuts):
Watch out, stupe!
For the cage! The cage!
TREE FROG
Wha-di-di-di-did you say?
SQUIRREL
(in
the fork of two low branches and coughing in the manner of squirrels.)
Life in stir. Hoo hoo.
Behind bars. The shiv he pokes,
In between the ribs. Hoo, hoo.
I could flee,
All you have are wet little fours that can’t
Escape as fast as mine.
TREE FROG
Wha-di-di-did you say?
I don’t know of any ca-ca-cage.
All I know’s the fly he threw to me.
(She jumps.)
Plop!
And the rosy rag.
(She jumps again.)
Plop!
I see bait, I jump up,
I get caught,
I escape, I come back.
Plop!
SQUIRREL
Reptile brain!
You can have my cell!
CHILD
to
the squirrel
Your cage, it was just to show off your speed,
Your scamp’ring four little feet,
Your brown eyes…
SQUIRREL
sarcastically
Ho! So it’s for my brown eyes!
Oh say can you see into,
My brown eyes?
Open heavens, the four winds,
My unbound mates,
Free as birds on the wing…
Do you see now all that they reflect?
My brown eyes seen shining through my tears!
(While he speaks, the garden
comes to life with bounding squirrels. Their play and nuzzling, up in the air,
don’t bother those of the frogs below. A couple of rose-laurel moths imitate
them. Other groups cluster and part. The garden, sputtering with wings,
brimming with squirrels, seems a paradise of natural joy and tenderness.)
CHILD
They’re happy. They’re having fun. I’m not missed…
(The black and white cats
appear atop the wall. The tomcat licks the other’s ear tenderly and plays with
her; they leave, one after the other, tiptoeing on the narrow ridge of the
wall.)
CHILD
They’re happy… I’m not missed… I’m alone…
(He calls out in spite of
himself.)
Mama!…
(Hearing this, all the
creatures prick up, separate, some flee, others run up menacingly, merging in
voice with the trees and crying):
ANIMALS AND TREES
Ah!
It’s the kid with the blade!
It’s the boy with the stick!
The badass and his cage!
The badass with his net!
The one who’s so full of sass,
He blows it out his ass!
Will he flee?
It’s the bad boy, it’s the badass with the cage!
No! He won’t escape.
Will he flee?
It’s the bad boy, it’s the badass with the cage!
No! He won’t escape.
See my talons!
See my teeth!
See my claws on the wing!
See my talons!
See my teeth!
See my claws on the wing!
Let us unite, let us unite!…
Let us un- Ahhh!
(At once, all the creatures
fall on the Child, pin him and tug on him this way and that. The frenzy turns
to a fight as each beast tries to have at the Child, and they instead end up
beating on one another. The Child - caught, released,
re-caught -
is passed from paw to paw. At pitch battle, he is bounced off into a far
corner, and the animals forget about him in their fevered combat. At nearly the
same time, a little injured squirrel falls at the Child’s feet with an agonized
cry. The animals, ashamed, stop, part themselves and
encircle the wounded animal at a distance. The Child takes a ribbon from his
neck and ties up the squirrel’s wounded paw, then
falls back in a daze. Profound silence and stupor among
them.)
ONE ANIMAL
amid
profound silence
He fixed the injured paw…
ANOTHER ANIMAL
He fixed the injured paw…
He fixed it with a ribbon…
He has stanched the blood.
OTHER ANIMALS
in
chorus, muted
He fixed the injured paw…
ANIMALS
among themselves
He’s hurt…
He’s wounded now…
He bleeds…
He fixed the injured paw…
We should fix up his hand… and stop his bleeding…
What now?
The boy knows how to fix things…
What then?
We’ve injured him now…
What now?
AN ANIMAL
He just called out to somebody…
ANIMALS
low
He called out…
AN ANIMAL
He just cried out one word, just one word: “Mama!”
ANIMALS
low,
repeating…
“Mama…”
(They approach and surround
the motionless Child. The squirrels are perched on the boughs above, the dragonflies fan him with their wings.)
AN ANIMAL
He’s so still… Did we kill him?
ANIMALS
We don’t know the way to fix his hand…
And turn back the blood…
AN ANIMAL
pointing
to the house
It’s there he can get help!
Carry him to his nest!
They must know what he needs in there,
The word he just cried out ‘while ago…
Let’s try all of us call it out…
(The creatures work together
to lift the Child, who is inert and pale, and carry him step by step to the
house.)
ANIMALS
hesitantly,
muted
“Ma…ma…” (Louder.)
“Ma-ma!”
(The Child opens his eyes,
tries to get up. The beasts try to support him with their paws, wings, heads
and backs…)
ANIMALS
ever
louder
“Mama!”
(A light appears through the
window from inside the house. At that moment, the moon -
unveiled by a cloud and the glowing dawn, rosy and golden -
inundate the garden with pure light. Songs of nightingales, murmurs of trees
and animals. The creatures, one by one, let go of the Child as their assistance
has become unneeded and withdraw quietly and with some regret. The group around
the Child diminishes in number but escorts him a little further, edging him on
with batted wings and joyful tumbling. Then halting their benevolent cortege
under the shade of the trees, the remaining animals leave the Child alone,
upright, luminous and blond in a halo of moonlight and dawn, holding his arms
out to her for whom the animals called out):
He is
good, this boy, he is cool,
So cool,
He is cool and good, this boy.
He is good, this boy, he is cool,
So cool,
He is cool and good, good and cool.
Ahhhh, he is cool, this boy, cool and good.
He is good, this boy, he is cool,
So cool, so cool, this boy,
He is so cool, so good.
He has fixed the injured paw,
He has stanched the blood, Ahhh.
Ahhh, stanched the blood.
He is cool, he is cool… he is cool.
Cool, cool, cool, so cool.
Ahhh, cool, so cool, so cool, so cool.
Cool, so cool. He is good, this boy, he is cool.
Cool. He is good, this boy, he is cool.
Cool. He is good, this boy, he is cool, he is cool.
He is good, this boy, he is cool, so cool, he is cool.
Cool, cool.
He is so cool.
CHILD
holding
out his arms
Mama!
