The Cycle of Spring Part 15

_Boy_

I couldn't catch him.

Whom?

_Boy_

The Old Man, whom you are seeking.

Have you seen him?

_Boy_

Yes, I thought I saw him going by in a car.

Where? In what direction?

_Boy_

I couldn't make out exactly. The dust raised by his wheels is still whirling in the air.

Then let us go.

He has filled the sky with dead leaves.

[_They go out._

_Watchman_

They are mad! Quite mad! Raving mad!

ACT III

SONG-PRELUDE

[_Winter is being unmasked--his hidden youth about to be disclosed._]

_The rear stage lighted up, disclosing Winter and the Heralds of Spring._

SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING

_How grave he looks, how laughably old, How solemnly quiet among death preparations!

Come, friends, help him to find himself before he reaches home.

Change his pilgrim's robe into the dress of the singing youth, s.n.a.t.c.h away his bag of dead things And confound his calculations._

(_Another group sings._)

_The time comes when the world shall know that you're not banished in your own shadows; Your heart shall burst in torrents Out of the clasp of the ice; And your North wind turn its face Against the haunts of the flitting phantoms.

There sounds the magician's drum, And the sun waits with laughter in his glance, To see your grey turn into green._

(_Evening_)

[_The rear stage is darkened; the light on the main stage dimmed to the greyness of dark._]

_Band of Youths_

They all cry, "There, there," and when we look for it, we find nothing but dust and dry leaves.

I thought I had a glimpse of the flag on his car through the cloud.

It is difficult to follow his track. Now it seems East: now it seems West.

And so we are tired, chasing shadows all day long. And the day has been lost.

I tell you the truth. Fear comes more and more into my mind, as the day pa.s.ses.

We have made a mistake. The morning light whispered in our ears, "Bravo, march on." And now, the evening light is mocking us for that.

I am afraid we have been deceived. I am beginning to feel greater respect for Dada's quatrains than before. We shall all be soon sitting down on the ground composing quatrains.

And then the whole neighbourhood will come, swarming round us.

And they will get such immense benefit from our wisdom that they will never leave us.

And we shall settle down like a great big boulder, cold and immovable.

And they will cling to us, as we sit there, like a thick fog.

What would our Leader think of us, I wonder, if he could hear us now?

I am sure it is our Leader, who has led us astray. He makes us toil for nothing, while he himself remains idle.

Let us go back and fight with him. We will tell him that we won't move a step further, but sit with our legs tucked under us. These legs are wretched vagabonds. They are always trudging the road.

We will keep our hands fast behind our backs.

There is no mischief in the back; all the trouble is in the front.

Of all our limbs, the back is the most truthful. It says to us, "Lie down."

When we are young, that braggart breast is a great swell; but, in the end, we can only rely on our back.

The little stream that flows past our village comes to my mind.

That morning we thought that it said to us, "Forward! Forward!"

But what it really said was, "False! False!" The world is all false.