Brendan Robinson, ’26
Epilogue
The author wrote this piece as part of the Monserrat course “Love, Text and Performance,” taught by Professor Ellen Lokos. It is inspired by the play Blood Wedding (Bodas de Sangre) by Spanish poet and dramatist Federico García Lorca.
MOON:
Twilight, to Dusk, then midnight,
Twilight, to Dawn, then day,
The sun chases me across the sky.
In fear, a silver tear rips across my pale face.
All the purpose of his life is to take what’s mine.
Even if fate is willing
To let my eclipse ravage the light,
The sun will not extinguish.
SUN:
I do not rage without a reason,
Your “placid” night steals the life of day
It freezes crops and breeds blight,
Those below die in your light,
It is I who should reign when you take flight.
MOON:
Our children, they’ve forsaken me.
They bask in your heat and warmth
Though my pale glow puts them to innocent sleep.
Oh, how I hate you! You burn them and I weep,
For in your warmth their blood boils and by the blade does seep!
SUN:
But in their frost they sleep and do not wake.
May “what have I done” be me,
“what failed to do” are you.
Oh, how I hate your face, how it mocks me.
Even the light on your cheek is that which I gifted you
And how do you repay me?
MOON:
Certainly not with that which you also gift me,
Craters from rocks flung by your might
My face may be pale and fine, but it is scarred.
Scarred by your passionate hatred,
Your infatuation with my downfall
Your burning, raging, vengeful wrath
SUN: You’ve not the scale to weigh my pain,
I will burn brighter and brighter until the day you return to ash.
MOON: And I will blot your light from the sky until it extinguishes itself,
For you cannot weigh mine.
SUN:
In another world we could be brothers.
MOON:
But in this world, what seals us is bloodlust.
SUN:
And so does such every ordered pain in this terrible world.
MOON:
Such suffering is bred from the same brood as is love. I will cry when you are dead.
SUN:
As will I for you, for what have I become that is more than your destruction?
BOTH:
Passion, passion, passion, instrument of pain and joy!
Deliver us, through mutual will to our incumbent demise.
On Earth, whether malice is bred from ignorance or demon,
Desire is life, rage is life. Hatred bleeds meaning.
For such is our nature, has been and will always be.
Epilogue
The author wrote this piece as part of the Monserrat course “Love, Text and Performance,” taught by Professor Ellen Lokos. It is inspired by the play Blood Wedding (Bodas de Sangre) by Spanish poet and dramatist Federico García Lorca.
︎
MOON:
Twilight, to Dusk, then midnight,
Twilight, to Dawn, then day,
The sun chases me across the sky.
In fear, a silver tear rips across my pale face.
All the purpose of his life is to take what’s mine.
Even if fate is willing
To let my eclipse ravage the light,
The sun will not extinguish.
SUN:
I do not rage without a reason,
Your “placid” night steals the life of day
It freezes crops and breeds blight,
Those below die in your light,
It is I who should reign when you take flight.
MOON:
Our children, they’ve forsaken me.
They bask in your heat and warmth
Though my pale glow puts them to innocent sleep.
Oh, how I hate you! You burn them and I weep,
For in your warmth their blood boils and by the blade does seep!
SUN:
But in their frost they sleep and do not wake.
May “what have I done” be me,
“what failed to do” are you.
Oh, how I hate your face, how it mocks me.
Even the light on your cheek is that which I gifted you
And how do you repay me?
MOON:
Certainly not with that which you also gift me,
Craters from rocks flung by your might
My face may be pale and fine, but it is scarred.
Scarred by your passionate hatred,
Your infatuation with my downfall
Your burning, raging, vengeful wrath
SUN: You’ve not the scale to weigh my pain,
I will burn brighter and brighter until the day you return to ash.
MOON: And I will blot your light from the sky until it extinguishes itself,
For you cannot weigh mine.
A PAUSE
SUN:
In another world we could be brothers.
MOON:
But in this world, what seals us is bloodlust.
SUN:
And so does such every ordered pain in this terrible world.
MOON:
Such suffering is bred from the same brood as is love. I will cry when you are dead.
SUN:
As will I for you, for what have I become that is more than your destruction?
BOTH:
Passion, passion, passion, instrument of pain and joy!
Deliver us, through mutual will to our incumbent demise.
On Earth, whether malice is bred from ignorance or demon,
Desire is life, rage is life. Hatred bleeds meaning.
For such is our nature, has been and will always be.