Angizia das leere grab

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Anatol, the servant, dug seven graves, but only six of them bear crosses. The servant crouches close to the gold gramophone and wipes the Schubert records dry. All the quiet screams were gruesome, but they have long since died away. Only blood remained opulent, at least some of it here on the mountain. Oppressive silence. An early morning. Satisfied silence. The servant stares at the empty grave and looks at the dark fellow for a while, as he knew exactly how many people were at court and how many crosses he would let in. The dark fellow, he raises his head, first grins quietly and then laughs loudly in winter's pomp and hustle and bustle. He infamously stares into the servant's face. The servant pauses, sees the last cross lying on the sleigh and looks over at the empty grave. He smiles cheekily, not at all confidently, and literally hides behind the giggles. Now he gradually realizes that the last grave was not a mistake. HE, the servant who dug all the graves, who put in endless effort and pulled the heavy sleigh up; HE who had another murdered and granted and bowed to the evil guild of the winter muse; HE himself, along with the old man and the child, were now destined for this final grave. The dark fellow recognizes from the servant's look that he is suddenly afraid, rises slowly, coolly and stately, steps forward and then looks up at the sky. Then he grabs the chain that was loosely wrapped around the sleigh and wades through the fresh snow.
[ANATOL, the servant/Forest WOMAN:]
They are sleeping underground, I made their bed .
Why am I dragging the devil's herd through this barren night.
I sipped in a frenzy. I hit the cross.
I woke up at court and danced happily.
[FOREST WOMAN, narrator:]
The servant looks as if calibrated by murder
into his own Grave.
He now laughs anxiously and stares softened
down at the cold earth.
[Viola]
[ANATOL, the servant/Forest WOMAN:]
Death turns in and gnaws at my fur.
In the wake of frost and pain, I feel his rock.
He sharpens his chains and strokes the cross.
He smells the beds and shows bitter joy.
[Piano]
[Accordion]

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