Pierrot Lunaire Arnold Schoenberg

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Pierrot LunaireArnold Schoenberg
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I. Moonstruck The wine that one drinks with the
eyesThe moon spills nights into the waves.
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And a spring flood overflowsThe still horizon.
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Desires, visible and sweetCountless swim across
the flood.
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The wine that one drinks with the eyesThe moon
spills nights into the waves.
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The poet, who practices devotionEnrapts himself
on the holy drink,
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He turns against the sky ecstaticHeadlong
reeling sucks and slurps
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The wine, that one drinks with the eyes.
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II. Colombine Moonlights pale blossoms,The
white wonder-roses
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Bloom in July evenings--O Id pluck just one.
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To ease anxious sufferingI search on dark streams
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Moonlights pale blossoms,The white wonder-roses.
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All my longing would be stilledIf I might,
fabled, stalk
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Slightly tipsy--strew petalsIn your brown hair
(of)
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Moonlights pale blossoms.
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III. The Dandy With one phantastical light
beamThe moon lights the crystal flaconsl
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On the black, high holy washstandOf the silent
dandy from Bergamo.
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In a resonant bronze basinThe fountain laughs
light, metal clangs
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With one phantastical light beamThe moon lights
the crystal flaconsl
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Pierrot of the waxen countenance Stands musing
and thinks how shall he make-up today
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Shoves aside the rouge and the Orient greenAnd
paints his face--sublime style
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With one phantastical moonbeam.
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IV. A Faded Laundress A faded laundressWashes
nighttimes pale clothes
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Naked, silver white armsShe stretches down into
the flood.
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Through the clearing creeping windsSlightly
agitate the stream.
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A faded laundressWashes nighttimes pale clothes.
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And the calm maid of the skyBy twigs tenderly
flattered
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Spreads across the dark meadowsHer light-woven
linen--
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A faded laundress.
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V. Valse de Chopin Like a pallid drop of
bloodColors a sick mans lips,
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So reposes in these tonesA charm seeking
annihilation.
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Wild airs accords disorderDespairs glacial
dream--
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Like a pallid drop of bloodColors a sick mans
lips.
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Hot and and jocund, sweet and tastyMelancholic
dusty waltzes,
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Never come into my senses!Hasten me on my
conception
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Like a pallid drop of blood.
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VI. Madonna Rise, o mother of all sorrowsOn the
altar of my verses!
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Blood from your meager breastsThe swords anger
has spilled.
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Your eternally fresh woundsResemble eyes, red
and open.
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Rise, o mother of all sorrowsOn the altar of my
verses!
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In emaciated handsYou hold your sons corpse
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To show to all mankind--But the gaze of men shuns
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You, o mother of all sorrows.
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VII. The Sick MoonYou nocturnal deathsick
moonthere on the skys black pillow,
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Your gaze, gross with feverEnchants me like
alien melody.
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On insatiable loves bodyYou die, of longing,
buried deep.
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You nocturnal deathsick moonThere on the skys
black pillow.
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The beloved, who in senses riotThoughtless
creeps to the beloved,
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Is amused by your beams play--Your pale,
pain-borne blood,
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You nocturnal deathsick moon.
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VIII. Night Obscure, black giant mothsKilled
the suns splendour.
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A closed book of spells,The horizon
settles--hushed.
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From the mists of lost depthsWafts a
scent--remembrance murdered!
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Obscure, black giant mothsKilled the suns
splendour.
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And from the sky earthwardsSinking on heavy wings
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Unseeable the monsters (glide)Down into the
human . . .
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Obscure, black giant moths.
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IX. Prayer to Pierrot Pierrot! My laughterIve
unlearned!
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Splendours imageDispersed--dispersed!
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Black the flag flapsAt me now from the mast.
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Pierrot! My laughterIve unlearned!
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Give me again,Vet of the soul,
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Snowman of lyric,Highness of the moon,
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Pierrot--my laughter!
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X. Theft Red, princely rubies,Bloody drops of
old fame,
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Sleep in the deads casketsBelow in the grave
vaults.
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Nights, with his croniesPierrot descends--to rob
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Red, princely rubiesBloody drops of old fame.
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But there--their hair on endPale fear charms
them to the spot
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Through the gloom--like eyes--Stare from the
deads caskets
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Red, princely rubies.
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XI. Red Mass For a terrible Last Supper,By the
murk gleam of gold,
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By flickering candlelight,Near the
altar--Pierrot!
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His hand, the annointed,Rips up the priests
vestments
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For a terrible Last SupperBy the murk gleam of
gold.
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With consecrated bearingHe shows the anxious
souls
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The dripping red HostHis heart--in bloodied
fingers--
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For a terrible Last Supper.
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XII. Gallows Song The withered whoreWith
stringy neck
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Will be his lastBeloved.
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In his brainsStuck like a nail
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The withered whoreWith stringy neck.
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Slim, like the stonepine,On her neck a small
tuft--
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Lustfully will shecircle the rogues neck,
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The withered whole!
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XIII. Beheading The moon, a shining scimitarOn
a black silk cushion,
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Ghastly huge--it slices downThrough the pained
dark night.
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Pierrot stumbles about with restAnd stares up in
fear of death
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At the moon, a shining scimitarOn a black silk
cushion.
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His knees chatter under him,Swooning he headlong
collapses.
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He fancies he hears whizzing punitive downOn
his sinners neck slicing.
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The moon, a shining scimitar.
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XIV. The Crosses Holy crosses are the
versesThat the poet mutely bleeds for,
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Stricken blind by the vultureFlapping swarm of
ghosts!
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Swords gorged upon corpsesOn parade in blood
scarlet!
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Holy crosses are the versesThat the poet mutely
bleeds for.
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Dead the head--stiff the ringlets--Far the
scattered noise of rabble.
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Slowly the sun sinks below,A red kings crown.--
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Holy crosses are the verses!
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XV. Homesick Sweetly plaintive--a crystal
sighingFrom an old Italian pantomime,
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Tinkles over how Pierrots become soWooden, so
modern sentimental.
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And it chimes through his hearts desert,Chimes
subdued through his senses again,
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Sweetly plaintive--a crystal sighingFrom an old
Italian pantomime,
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So Pierrot forgets the dream faces!By the moons
faint firelight,
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By the light seas flood--longing straysBrave
upwards, up to the home sky
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Sweetly plaintive--a crystal sighing.
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XVI. Mean Trick! In Cassanders polished
skullWhile his cries shriek through the air!
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Pierrot, the hypocrite, boresTenderly,--with a
trepan!
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Then he tamps down with his thumbsHis genuine
Turkish tobacco
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In Cassanders polish skullWhile his cries
shriek through the air!
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Then he twists a perfumed cherry pipestemInto
the glossy baldspot
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And comfortably smokes and puffs onHis genuine
Turkish tobacco
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In Cassanders polished skull.
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XVII. Parody Knitting needles, bright and
gleaming,In her gray hair,
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The duenna sits muttering,There in a small red
dress.
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She waits in the arbor,She loves Pierrot
painfully,
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Knitting needles, bright and gleamingIn her gray
hair.
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Then suddenly--hark!--a whisper!A wind breath
giggles softly
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The moon, that nasty mockerApes her with his
rays--
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Knitting needles, bright and gleaming.
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XVIII. The Moonspot One white spot from the
bright moonOn the back of his black coat,
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So Pierrot walks in mild eveningSearching for
luck and adventure.
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Instantly hes troubled by something on his suit,
He looks himself over and finds sure enough--
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One white spot from the bright moonOn the back
of his black coat.
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Wait! He thinks thats a spot of plaster!Wipes
and wipes, but--cant get it out!
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And so he goes, swollen with fury, farther,Rubs
and rubs until early morning--
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One white spot from the bright moon.
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XIX. Serenade With a grotesque giant bowPierrot
scrapes on his viola,
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Like the stork on one leg,He dully plucks a
pizzicato.
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Suddenly Cassander comes--frenziedBy the
nocturne virtuoso--
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With a grotesque giant bowPierrot saws on his
viola.
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Fast he throws down the violaWith his delicate
left hand
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He grasps the bald head by the collar--Dreaming
he plays on the baldspot
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With a grotesque giant bow.
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XX. Journey Home The moonbeam is the rudder,A
water lily serves as boat
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So Pierrot sails toward the southWith a fair
wind for his passage.
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The stream hums deep scalesAnd rocks the light
dory.
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The moonbeam is the rudder,A water lily serves
as boat.
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To Bergamo, his homeland,Pierrot now returns
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Weak gleams in the eastThe green horizon.
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--The moonbeam is the rudder.
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XXI. O Old Perfume Old perfume from fabled
times,Ravish again my senses!
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A crazy swarm of vagariesBuzzes through the easy
air.
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A happy impulse brings me toThose joys Ive long
looked down on
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Old perfume from fabled times Ravish me again
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All my ill humor I let slide,Out my sun-framed
window
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I see the clear and lovely worldAnd dream beyond
for blissful stretches. . .
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O Old perfume--from fabled times!
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