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

      Down there I learned how to fear,

      That I might teach thee, dullard.

      This fear then, what is it?

      Thou knowest not that,

      Yet wouldst from the forest

      Forth to the world?

      What help in the trustiest sword,

      Hadst thou not learned to fear?

      What absurd

      Invention is this?

      'Tis thy mother's wish

      Speaking through me.

      I must fulfil

      The promise I gave her:

      That the world and its wiles

      Thou shouldst not encounter

      Until thou hadst learned how to fear.

      Is it an art?

      Why was I not taught?

      Explain: this fearing, what is it?

      In the dark wood

      Hast thou not felt,

      When shades of dusk

      Fall dim and drear,

      When mournful whispers

      Sigh afar,

      And fierce growling

      Sounds at hand,

      When strange flashes

      Dart and flicker,

      And the buzzing

      And clamour grow—

      Hast thou not felt grim horror

      Hold every sense in its clutches?—

      When the limbs shiver,

      Shaken with terror,

      And the heart, filled with dismay,

      Hammers, bursting the breast—

      Hast thou not yet felt that,

      A stranger art thou to fear.

      Wonderful truly

      That must be.

      Steadfast, strong

      Beats my heart in my breast.

      The shiver and shudder,

      The fever and horror,

      Burning and fainting,

      Beating and trembling—

      Ah, how glad I would feel them,

      Could I but learn this delight!

      But how, Mime,

      Can it be mine?

      How, coward, could it be taught me?

      Following me,

      The way thou shalt find;

      I have thought it all out.

      I know of a dragon grim

      That slays and swallows men:

      Fear thou wilt learn from Fafner,

      When I lead to where he lies.

      Where has he his lair?

      Neidhöhl'

      Named, it lies east

      Towards the end of the wood.

      It lies not far from the world?

      The world is quite close to the cave.

      That I may learn what this fear is,

      Lead me there straightway;

      Then forth to the world!

      Make haste! Forge me the sword.

      In the world fain I would swing it.

      The sword? Woe's me!

      Quick to the smithy!

      Show me thy work!

      Accursèd steel!

      Unequal my skill to the task;

      The potent magic

      Surpasses the poor dwarf's strength.

      'Twere more easily done

      By one who never felt fear.

      Artful tricks

      The idler would play me;

      He is a bungler;

      He should confess,

      And not seek to lie his way out.

      Here with the splinters!

      Off with the bungler!

      His father's sword

      Siegfried will weld:

      By him shall it be forged.

      If thou hadst practised

      Thy craft with care,

      Thou wouldst have profited now;

      But thou wert far

      Too lazy to learn,

      And now at need canst do nothing.

      Where the master has failed

      What hope for the scholar,

      Had he obeyed him in all?

      Be off with thee!

      Meddle no more,

      In case with the steel I melt thee.