From the Studio Editions Dramas
From the drama Eclipse, in Three Plays, a 1992 Studio Editions publication. (The original version of this drama was written and produced in 1979.)
The drama (Munich, 1923) opens with Herr Kamerin's monologue in free verse. He is a sculptor and refers in the verse to Ahriman; to his sculpted head of Ahriman:
I've seen this head, and gnarled form,
Rising up from the ground in the mist,
When daylight fades and damp chill of dusk
Permeates all remaining warmth.
The city is tense and dark.
Shades of night obscure
Even the withered leaves,
Scattered by the autumn wind;
Crushed by the boots of marching men.
I've seen him in the meeting halls
Where the parties gather at night;
Seen him in the smoke
Curling up to the rafters.
Below, bodies are heavy, senses dull;
Tense, murmuring voices fill the air;
Glasses, bottles clink;
The stale odor of beer, wine,
Mixes with the sweat of fear -
Fear masked as pride, political fervor,
False sense of power.
I've seen him gloating there.
They're not lost on him,
The so-called "superior" men and women,
Those of the "pure Aryan race!"...
Oblivious to his presence,
Still, they know him,
In the shadows, in the mist,
In vague, palpitating fear,
Masked fear....
Into the sanctity of my studio
I invite this grim visage,
Insuring through my efforts
That triumph will elude him.
Dark and vulnerable as the city is now,
Beams of dawn, distant beams of hope,
Illumine my thoughts and feelings.
If in me, then in others, too,
These beams, through will,
Can grow into a fiery light,
A light to scorch the sheaths
That blacken the sun, mask the sun
As men mask their deeper feelings,
As they dull their higher senses...
A light to light the future path,
The path of open gates....
This fiery love, this eternal light
Dissolves the eclipse of the moment.
Eclipse!....
(He goes to the window, draws back the blue curtain and looks out.)
Looking out at Munich this evening,
The shingled roofs looming grey
Against the moonless, pitch-black sky,
Scattered windows dimly lit,
Raucous singing in the distance,
Bells - faraway - pealing the time,
How fixed the moment seems,
As though it would never change,
As though we would be here,
Caught in this eclipse
Forever....
The marching boots - I hear them now -
Belong to men who would dwell in changeless time,
Who will force some semblance of meaning
On their shallow lives.
He will give them all the lies they need!.....
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