Federico García Lorca
Blood Wedding
(Bodas de sangre)
1933
A tragedy in three acts and seven scenes
Act
III
A. S. Kline © 2007 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose. Permission to perform this version of the play, on stage or film, by amateur or professional companies, and for commercial purposes, should be requested from the translator,
Contents
(
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Have they found them?
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: No. But they’re
searching everywhere.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: They’ll find them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: Sssh!
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
What?
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They’re closing in from all directions.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: When the moon rises they’ll see them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They ought to let them go.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: The world is large. There’s room for all.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: But they’ll kill them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They followed their inclination: they were
right to flee.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: They tried to deceive themselves, but in the
end blood proved stronger.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Blood!
FIRST WOODCUTTER: They followed the urge of their blood.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: But blood that
sees the light the earth soon drinks.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: So? Better to die of loss of blood than live
with poison in your veins.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Hush!
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Why? What do you hear?
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Cicadas, frogs, and the night lying in wait.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: There’s still no sound of a horse.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: No.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Then he’s making love to her.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Her body is his,
and his is hers.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
They’ll hunt them down and kill them.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: But their blood will have mingled, and they’ll
be like two empty vessels, two dry streams.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: There’s heavy
cloud, perhaps the moon will be hidden.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: The bridegroom will find them, moon or no
moon. I saw him leave. Like a raging meteor. His face ashen. Revealing the
family destiny.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: A family that dies in the street.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: That’s it!
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Do you think they’ll break through the
circle?
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Tricky. There are
knives and guns in a three mile circuit.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: He rides a fine horse.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: But with a woman.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Here is the tree.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Forty foot high.
We’ll soon have it down.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: The moon’s coming out. We’ll have to hurry.
(A brilliant light shines out from
stage left)
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay, the moon rises
moon
of the sharp knives.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER:
Full
of blood-wet jasmine!
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
moon alone!
Moon
of the green blades!
SECOND
WOODCUTTER:
Silvering
the bride’s face.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
ill moon!
Leave
the dark branch to love.
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
sad moon!
Leave
the dark branch to love.
(They exit. From the light
stage-left the Moon appears. The Moon is a young woodcutter, with a white face.
The scene acquires a bright blue glow.)
MOON:
White
swan in the river,
the
eye of cathedrals,
false
dawn in the leaves,
am
Who
can escape? Who sobs
in
the valley’s tangle?
The
moon leaves a knife
behind
in the air,
a
lead-coloured trap
that
seeks blood’s cry.
Let
me in! I come frozen
through walls and windows!
Open
roofs and breasts
where
I can be warmed!
I’m
chilled! My ashes
of
somnolent metals
seek
the crown of the fire
among
streets and mountains.
But I
bring the snow
to
their shoulders of jasper,
and I
flood, cold and harsh,
the
depths of the lakes.
But
this night my cheeks
will
be stained with red blood,
and
the reeds clustered
in
wide swathes of air.
I
have no shadow,
nowhere
they can hide!
Let
me enter a breast
where
I can be warmed!
A
heart of my own!
Burning!
Spilling itself
on
the hills of my breast;
Let
me come in! Oh, let me! (To the branches)
No
shadow. My rays
must
shine everywhere,
and
in dark of the trees
spread
a rumour of dawn,
so my
cheeks this night
will
be stained with red blood,
and
the reeds clustered
in
wide swathes of air.
Who’s
that hiding! Speak out!
No!
There’s no escape!
I’ll
make the horse gleam
with
a fever of diamond.
(The Moon vanishes among the trees
and leaves the scene to its gloom. An old woman appears dressed in dark-green
rags. She is bare-footed. Her face is hidden in the folds of her cloak. This
character does not appear in the cast list.)
BEGGARWOMAN:
The moon is gone, and they are near by.
They’ll not leave here. The sound of
the river
will drown in the sound of the trees
the broken flight of their cries.
It must be here, and soon. I am weary.
The chests, and the white sheets ache
await on the empty bedroom floors
the heavy corpses with slashed
throats.
Not a bird will stir and the breeze,
will sweep the sound of their cries
away with her through the black trees,
or bury them deep in gleaming mud.
The moon! The moon! (Impatiently)
The moon! The moon!
(The Moon emerges. The intense
light returns.)
MOON: They’re nearer now.
Some by the hill, the rest by the
river.
I’ll light their way. What do you
need?
BEGGARWOMAN: Nothing.
MOON: The
air is hardening, and double-edged.
BEGGARWOMAN: Light
their waistcoats, pluck off the buttons,
so
that later the knives will know the road.
MOON: But let them die slowly. Let
the blood seep
slow through
my fingers, a delicate whisper.
Already
my ashen valleys are stirring
they
yearn for that fount, its quivering flow!
BEGGARWOMAN: We
won’t let them pass the stream! Now, silence!
MOON: They’re here!
(The Moon vanishes. Leaving the
scene in darkness.)
BEGGARWOMAN: Swiftly! Light! Did you hear me? They must
not escape!
(The Bridegroom and a boy appear.
The Beggar-woman sits, and covers herself with her cloak.)
BRIDEGROOM: Through here.
FIRST BOY: You’ll never find them.
BRIDEGROOM: (Energetically)
When I do find them!
FIRST BOY: I think they’ve gone another way.
BRIDEGROOM: No. I heard a horse galloping not long ago.
BOY: It may be another horse.
BRIDEGROOM: (Dramatically)
Listen. There’s only one horse for me in all the world, and it’s that one. Do
you understand? If you’re going to follow me, follow in silence.
FIRST BOY:
I only meant…
BRIDEGROOM: Hush. I’m sure I’ll find them here. See this
arm? Well it’s not mine. It’s the arm of my brother, of my father, of all my
family’s dead. And it holds such power I could tear up this tree by its roots,
if I wished. Now let’s go on, because I feel their anger here in a manner that
makes it impossible for me to breathe easily.
BEGGARWOMAN: (Moaning)
Ay!
FIRST BOY: Did you hear that?
BRIDEGROOM: Go through there, then work your way back.
FIRST BOY: It’s like a hunt.
BRIDEGROOM: It is a hunt. The greatest you can undertake.
(The boy leaves. The Bridegroom
moves swiftly to the left and stumbles over the Beggar-woman.)
BEGGARWOMAN: Ay!
BRIDEGROOM: What is it?
BEGGARWOMAN:
I’m cold.
BRIDEGROOM: Where are you travelling to?
BEGGARWOMAN: (In the
quavering voice of a mendicant) Far from here…
BRIDEGROOM: Where are you from?
BEGGARWOMAN: From there….from afar.
BRIDEGROOM: Have you seen a man and woman riding a horse?
BEGGARWOMAN:
(Rousing herself) Wait… (She gazes at him). A handsome young man.
(She rises) Handsomer still if he
were sleeping.
BRIDEGROOM: Answer me, have you seen them?
BEGGARWOMAN: Wait….What broad shoulders! Wouldn’t you
prefer to lie flat on them, and not have to stand on your feet which are so small?
BRIDEGROOM: (Shaking
her) I asked if you’ve seen them? Have they passed this way?
BEGGARWOMAN: (Energetically)
They have not; but they’re descending
the hillside. Can’t you hear them?
BRIDEGROOM: No.
BEGGARWOMAN: Do you know the way?
BRIDEGROOM: I’ll find it; come what may!
BEGGARWOMAN: I’ll go with you. I know this country.
BRIDEGROOM: (Impatiently)
Come then! Which way?
BEGGARWOMAN: (Dramatically)
Through here!
(They leave swiftly. Two violins
are heard far off which express the forest. The Woodcutters return, carrying
their axes on their shoulders. They pass slowly through the trees.)
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Death enters!
Death
of the sharp knives.
SECOND WOODCUTTER:
Don’t
let the blood spurt!
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay! Death enters,
Death
of the dry leaves.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Don’t drown the flowers of the wedding!
SECOND
WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Sad death!
Leave
the green leaves of love.
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Ill death!
Leave
the green leaves of love.
(They leave as they finish
speaking. Leonardo and the Bride appear.)
LEONARDO: Hush!
BRIDE: I’ll go on alone from here.
Go
back! I want you to go!
LEONARDO: Hush,
I said!
BRIDE: With your teeth,
with
your hands, if you can,
cut
from my honest neck
the
chain you’ve set there,
leave
me forgotten
in my
house of earth.
And
if you won’t kill me
like
a nascent viper,
place
in the bride’s hands
the
stock of your rifle.
Ay,
what grief, what fire
runs
through my head!
What
glass cuts at my tongue!
LEONARDO: There’s
no going back; hush!
Because
they’re encircling us
and I
must take you with me.
BRIDE: Then it will be by force.
LEONARDO: By
force? Who was it then
first
slipped down the stairs?
BRIDE: I did.
LEONARDO: Who
put a fresh
bridle on the horse?
BRIDE: I did. It’s true.
LEONARDO: And
whose hands
fastened
my spurs?
BRIDE: These hands which are yours,
and
which if they could
would
quell the blue branches
and
the stir of your veins.
I
love you! I love you! Go!
For
if I could only kill you,
I’d
wrap you in a shroud
with
violet fringes.
Ay,
what grief, what fire
runs
through my head!
LEONARDO: What
glass cuts at my tongue!
Because
I wished to forget
and
build a wall out of stone
between
your house and mine.
It’s
true? Don’t you remember?
And
when I saw you afar
I
threw sand in my eyes.
But then
I climbed on my horse
and
the horse came to your door.
With
the silver pins of your veil
my
blood turned to darkness,
and
dreams they filled my flesh
with
the rank odour of weeds.
But
the guilt of it isn’t mine,
the
guilt belongs to the earth
it is
the perfume that rises
from
your breasts and your hair.
BRIDE: Ay, what madness! I wish
neither
bed nor board from you,
yet
there’s no hour of the day
that
I don’t long to see you,
for
you draw me, and I go,
and
you tell me to return
and I
follow you through the air,
like
a straw lost in the wind.
I
left a fine man behind
and
all his family there
in
the midst of the wedding
dressed
in my wreath of flowers.
But
you’ll suffer for it,
and I
don’t want you to.
Leave
me! Go far away!
There’s
none here to defend you.
LEONARDO: The
birds of the morning
are stirring
in the trees.
The
night itself is dying
in a
hard edge of stone.
Let’s
find some dark corner,
where
I can always love you,
where
people will not matter
nor
the venom they engender.
(He embraces her tightly)
BRIDE: And I’ll sleep at your feet
to
watch over your dreams.
naked,
I’ll lie on the ground,
just
like a bitch on heat. (Dramatically)
That’s
what I am! I see you
And
your beauty makes me burn.
LEONARDO: One
fire lights another.
The
one little flame
destroys
the whole crop.
Let’s
go! (He gathers her up.)
BRIDE: Where will we go?
LEONARDO: Anywhere
where the men
encircling
us can’t go.
Where
I can gaze at you!
BRIDE: (Sarcastically)
Take
me from fair to fair,
all
honest women’s shame
so
the people can stare,
with
my wedding sheet
like
a banner in the wind.
LEONARDO: I
too would leave you
if I
thought as they do.
But
I’ll go where you go.
You
too. Take a step. Come.
Splinters
of moonlight pierce
my
waist and your hips.
(The whole scene is intense, full
of deep sensuality.)
BRIDE: Did you hear?
LEONARDO: Someone
comes.
BRIDE: Go!
It’s
right I should die here
with
my feet in the water,
with
thorns now in my hair.
And
for the leaves to mourn,
a
lost girl and a maiden.
LEONARDO: Hush.
They are here.
BRIDE: Go now.
LEONARDO: Silence.
They won’t hear us.
You
go first. Go on, I say!
(The Bride hesitates)
BRIDE: Both together!
LEONARDO: (Hugging
her tightly)
Well,
as you wish!
If
they part us,
then
I’ll be dead.
BRIDE: And I too shall die.
(They embrace and leave. The Moon
appears very slowly. The scene acquires a fiery blue light. The two violins are
heard. Suddenly two loud screams are heard, and the violins fall silent. With
the second scream the Beggar-woman appears, with her back to the audience. She
opens her cloak, and occupies centre stage, like a great bird with immense
wings. The Moon halts. The curtain falls in the midst of absolute silence.)
Curtain
(A white room with archways and
thick walls. White stairways to the left and right. At the back a wall of the
same colour with a large arch. The floor should also be of a brilliant white.
This simple room has the monumental feel of a church. There are no half-tones
or shadows, not even enough to create a sense of perspective. Two girls dressed
in dark blue are winding a skein of red wool. Another young girl is also present)
FIRST GIRL: Skein,
skein
what would
you be?
SECOND GIRL: Dress
of jasmine,
tie
of crystal.
To be
born at four,
and to
die at ten.
A
strand of wool,
a
chain at your feet,
and a
knot to bind
the bitter
laurel.
YOUNG GIRL: Did
you go to the wedding?
FIRST GIRL: No.
YOUNG GIRL: Neither
did I!
What
happened there
among
the dark vines?
What
happened there
in
the olive branches?
What
happened there
that
no one’s returned?
Did
you go to the wedding?
SECOND GIRL: We
both said no.
YOUNG GIRL: (Leaving)
Neither did I!
SECOND GIRL: Skein,
skein
what would
you sing?
FIRST GIRL: Waxen
wounds
sorrow
of myrtle.
Sleep
in the morning,
waking
at nightfall.
YOUNG GIRL:
(From the doorway)
The
thread runs
over the stones.
The
blue hills
it
leaves behind.
Runs,
runs, runs
and
serves at last
to handle
a knife
to sever
a life.