Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2. Рихард Вагнер

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      'Tis thou who comest thus?

      What wilt thou here?

      Go, get thee hence!

      Begone, thou insolent thief!

      Schwarz-Alberich

      Wanders here?

      Guardest thou Fafner's house?

      Art thou intent

      On mischief again?

      Linger not here!

      Off with thee straightway!

      Has grief enough

      Not deluged the earth through thy guile?

      Spare it further

      Sorrow, thou wretch!

      I come as watcher,

      Not as worker.

      The Wanderer's way who bars?

      Thou arch, pestilent plotter!

      Were I still the blind,

      Silly fool that I was,

      When I was bound thy captive,

      How easy were it

      To steal the ring again from me!

      Beware! For thy cunning

      I know well,

      And of thy weakness

      I am fully aware too.

      Thy debts were cancelled,

      Paid with my treasure;

      My ring guerdoned

      The giants' toil,

      Who raised thy citadel high.

      Still on the mighty

      Haft of thy spear there

      The runes are written plain

      Of the compact made with the churls;

      And of that

      Which by labour they won

      Thou dost not dare to despoil them:

      Thy spear's strong shaft

      Thou thyself wouldst split;

      The staff that makes thee

      Master of all

      Would crumble to dust in thy hand.

      By the steadfast runes of treaties

      Thou hast not,

      Base one, been bound;

      On thee my spear may spend its strength,

      So keen I keep it for war.

      How dire thy threats!

      How bold thy defiance!

      And yet full of fear is thy heart!

      Foredoomed to death

      Through my curse is he

      Who now guards the treasure.

      What heir will succeed him?

      Will the hoard all desire

      Belong as before to the Niblung?—

      That gnaws thee with ceaseless torment.

      For once I have got it

      Safe in my grasp,

      Better than foolish giants

      Will I employ its spell.

      The God who guards heroes

      Truly may tremble!

      I will storm

      Proud Walhall with Hella's hosts,

      And rule, lord of the world!

      Thy design I know well,

      But little I care:

      Who wins the ring

      Will rule by its might.

      Thou speakest darkly,

      But to me all is plain.

      Thy heart is bold

      Because of a boy,

      A hero begot of thy blood.

      Hast thou not fostered a stripling

      To pluck the fruit thou durst not

      Pluck frankly for thyself?

      With me

      'Tis useless to wrangle;

      But Mime thou shouldst beware;

      For thy brother brings here a boy

      To compass the giant's doom.

      He knows not of me;

      He works for Mime alone.

      And so I say to thee,

      Do as seems to thee best.

      Take my advice,

      Be on thy guard:

      The boy will hear of the ring

      When Mime tells him the tale.

      Wilt thou hold thy hand from the hoard?

      Whom I love

      Must fight for himself unaided;

      The lord of his fate,

      He stands or falls:

      All my hope hangs upon heroes.

      Does none but Mime

      Dispute me the ring?

      Only thou and Mime

      Covet the gold.

      And yet it is not to be mine?