UNE ÉTOILE QUI BRILLE ENCORE

Hugtto Pretty Cure
Episode 5 - My Own Review

UNE ÉTOILE QUI BRILLE ENCORE

 

Charalit more or less kidnaps Homare and forces her into a situation where she has to jump.
With her past still haunting her, that despair makes for a lot of negative energy – or thornypowewer.





 



 

 

The thought of flying, and being cheered on, scares Homare. However, she no longer intends to let that hold her back; she refuses to run from herself any more. With that conviction, she is able to achieve what she couldn’t in the previous episode: she becomes a PreCure.

This week Homare finally became Cure Étoile, but not without being challenged by the enemy, using her seeds of doubt to create a monster in attempt to rob the girls of their Future Crystals. In the beginning, Charaleet did succeed because he did manage to create a monster out of Homare’s despair, but in the end, but Hugtan ended up actually playing a big role, her cries were able to reach Homare and encourage her to face her fear, and take that leap of faith to fly once more. I must say, Cure Étoile’s attack sequence is lit. I absolutely love the effects, and it reminds me a lot of the classic magical girls transformation sequences.

Something happened on the day she died,

her spirit rose a metre and stepped aside...

Somebody else took her place and bravely cried:

I'M A HEARTSTAR...

I'M A HEARTSTAR...

How many times does an angel fall?

How many people die instead of talking tall?

She trod on sacred ground, she cried out loud into the crowd:

I'M A HEARTSTAR...

I'M A HEARTSTAR...

Unfortunately for Charalit, that was the last chance he was being given. He retreats, though whether he has returned to the office or gone off somewhere else remains to be seen.
The enemies finally showed their faces, and I must say their designs are quite fun. With Charalit failing to make any grounds, he is in big trouble now, so it’s time for a new villain to step up to the plate. Surprisingly it’s not Lulu who is up next, but sexpot baroness Papple instead. I wonder what kind of character she will be, and the sorts of fights we will in the upcoming episodes. I imagine the pace of the series is going to enter it’s insanely slow phase where not much happens during this period of time since Homare has officially joined the team. It’s still early on, but hopefully it won’t be too stagnant because that’s when it becomes challenging for me to covert these type of shows.

 It is nice to see Homare finally “soften up” (so to speak) to the girls and the three of them can finally begin their friendship.

MY OWN HUMBLE OPINION:
OH LA VACHE CURE ÉTOILE CURE ÉTOILE!!!
That haircut of Homare's post-recovery instantly sparked up memories of Fa Mulan and Eugénie Danglars:


Et du même tiroir dont elle avait fait sortir la mante qu'elle venait de donner à Mlle d'Armilly, et dont celle-ci avait déjà couvert ses épaules, elle tira un costume d'homme complet, depuis les bottines jusqu'à la redingote, avec une provision de linge où il n'y avait rien de superflu, mais où se trouvait le nécessaire.
Alors, avec une promptitude qui indiquait que ce n'était pas sans doute la première fois qu'en se jouant elle avait revêtu les habits d'un autre sexe, Eugénie chaussa ses bottines, passa un pantalon, chiffonna sa cravate, boutonna jusqu'à son cou un gilet montant, et endossa une redingote qui dessinait sa taille fine et cambrée.
« Oh ! c'est très bien ! en vérité, c'est très bien, dit Louise en la regardant avec admiration ; mais ces beaux cheveux noirs, ces nattes magnifiques qui faisaient soupirer d'envie toutes les femmes, tiendront-ils sous un chapeau d'homme comme celui que j'aperçois là ?
- Tu vas voir », dit Eugénie.
Et saisissant avec sa main gauche la tresse épaisse sur laquelle ses longs doigts ne se refermaient qu'à peine, elle saisit de sa main droite une paire de longs ciseaux, et bientôt l'acier cria au milieu de la riche et splendide chevelure, qui tomba tout entière aux pieds de la jeune fille, renversée en arrière pour l'isoler de sa redingote.
Puis, la natte supérieure abattue, Eugénie passa à celles de ses tempes, qu'elle abattit successivement, sans laisser échapper le moindre regret : au contraire, ses yeux brillèrent, plus pétillants et plus joyeux encore que de coutume, sous ses sourcils noirs comme l'ébène.
« Oh ! les magnifiques cheveux ! dit Louise, avec regret.
- Eh ! ne suis-je pas cent fois mieux ainsi ? s'écria Eugénie en lissant les boucles éparses de sa coiffure devenue toute masculine, et ne me trouves-tu donc pas plus belle ainsi ?
- Oh ! tu es belle, belle toujours ! s'écria Louise.

From the same drawer she took a man’s complete costume, from the boots to the coat, and a provision of linen, where there was nothing superfluous, but every requisite. Then, with a promptitude which indicated that this was not the first time she had amused herself by adopting the garb of the opposite sex, Eugénie drew on the boots and pantaloons, tied her cravat, buttoned her waistcoat up to the throat, and put on a coat which admirably fitted her beautiful figure. “Oh, that is very good—indeed, it is very good!” said Louise, looking at her with admiration; “but that beautiful black hair, those magnificent braids, which made all the ladies sigh with envy,—will they go under a man’s hat like the one I see down there?”

“You shall see,” said Eugénie. And with her left hand seizing the thick mass, which her long fingers could scarcely grasp, she took in her right hand a pair of long scissors, and soon the steel met through the rich and splendid hair, which fell in a cluster at her feet as she leaned back to keep it from her coat. Then she grasped the front hair, which she also cut off, without expressing the least regret; on the contrary, her eyes sparkled with greater pleasure than usual under her ebony eyebrows. “Oh, the magnificent hair!” said Louise, with regret.

“And am I not a hundred times better thus?” cried Eugénie, smoothing the scattered curls of her hair, which had now quite a masculine appearance; “and do you not think me handsomer so?”

“Oh, you are beautiful—always beautiful!” cried Louise.

Not to mention Maria in Axel and Maria by Tegnér:

Så sagt, så gjort. Beslut och handling
är ett hos kvinnan. Sin förvandling
hon skyndar. Under krigarns hatt
hon gömmer sina lockars natt.
Den rika barmen snörs i kyller,
med krut och bly hon ränseln fyller,
och över skullran, mjäll och fin,
hängs dödens synrör, en karbin;
och runt kring läpparna hon drar
en skuggning som skall skägg betyda:
det var som om du ville pryda
med sorgeflor ett rosenpar.

So said, so done. Thought and fulfilment
Are one in woman. Her habil'ment

Is quickly changed. A warrior's casque

Her raven tresses' night doth mask.

Her bosom rich in buff she laces,

In sidepouch lead and powder places,

And o'er her fair, soft shoulder's slope

A carbine hangs, Death's telescope.

And next she traces all around

Her lips a shade that beard supposes:

T'was e'en as if to deck two roses,

The pair in mourning-crape thou'dst bound.

I also started wearing boyish short hair, though short like Homare's, for more practical reasons: because it takes shorter to wash and to dry.
...
That crucifixion stance that Charalit pins Homare to the wall in (arms spreadeagled and legs joined together), as well as the Star Future Crystal surging from her chest as she is "crucified", also deserves a mention. In particular, that crystal coexisting with so much thornypowewer within her reminds me of the "blood and water" gushing out of the side-wound used to mercy kill Jesus in the Gospel of John. In a similar fashion, Homare "dies" and "resurrects" as Étoile --and don't stars shine in the night sky as guiding lights and beacons of hope?--. I'm not talking Christian symbolism, but universal symbolism: Osiris, Adonis, Kai in the Snow Queen, Orpheus, Valentine de Villefort, Yukari Kotozume and Akira Kenjo themselves... all of them undergo near-death experiences and awaken as different people, their old selves having died during the ordeal.

Something happened on the day she died,
her spirit rose a metre and stepped aside...
Somebody else took her place and bravely cried:
I'M A HEARTSTAR...
I'M A HEARTSTAR...
How many times does an angel fall?
How many people die instead of talking tall?
She trod on sacred ground, she cried out loud into the crowd:
I'M A HEARTSTAR...
I'M A HEARTSTAR...

Thus concludes the mini-arc that is the introduction of Cure Étoile. It’s not the first time we’ve seen a yellow star-themed Cure who didn’t join initially because of something. Go! Princess PreCure had Kirara Amanogawa, who would go on to become Cure Twinkle. Kirara’s and Homare’s reasons for not initially becoming PreCures are different, but there are certainly similarities between them.

 She's able to successfully create her Future Crystal but when attempting to jump for it for the first time, she triggers a painful memory and misses the jump, causing it to disappear. She is able to successfully claim it in episode 5.
Shows textbook signs of PTSD such as jumping causing her to remember her failed figure skating jump, her sadness, distancing herself others and from figure skating, and a loss of interest in other activities (not going to school that often).
Is troubled at the start of the series due to having failed a figure skating jump at one point, badly injuring her leg and destroying her dreams.
In her backstory, she cut her hair short after her Career-Ending Injury, she has it back as Cure Étoile.
Everytime she attempts to jump, it will remind her of the incident involving failing a figure skating jump and injuring her leg, causing her to quit figure skating.
No time before did we have such a Precure with PTSD. That certainly makes Homare far more interesting than any other Cure of this season. Une ÉTOILE FILANTE QUI BRILLE ENCORE...
...
On the Good Ship Charalu, things are definitely

NEXT EPISODE (6):

 

 PAPPLE: I'm sexy and I know it... and that's the reason why I should enter stage left and take center stage next week... That uncouth loser Charalit doesn't know what he's missing...

LA LLUVIA Y LAS PLANTAS

LA LLUVIA Y LAS PLANTAS

Caía la lluvia. Zarandeaba el viento las ramas de los árboles. La niña, cansada de su encierro, habló a la lluvia desde la ventana de su habitación:
—Lluvia, mala amiga, ¿por qué caes? Me tienes presa en casa. ¡Cesa ya de una vez! ¡Quiero ir a jugar!
La voz cantarina de la lluvia replicó:
—Las plantas, amiguita, tienen sed. Si agua no les doy, ni flores ni frutos darán después.

(Anónimo - Febrero, día 9; 365 cuentos de Susaeta)

Critical evaluation of Verdi's Othello

Critical evaluation of the opera

In Otello, the flow between the set pieces is much smoother than in any of Verdi's earlier works. Whereas in his earlier masterpieces he had made significant strides away from the aria-recitative structure, here Verdi did away with it entirely. Verdi's librettist, Arrigo Boito, was extremely faithful to Shakespeare's original play, though act 1 of the drama was omitted and the other scenes were condensed in length. The roles of Otello (Othello) and Iago are among the most fully developed in all of opera, as much so as in Shakespeare's original drama—especially the character of Otello himself. (Iago is much more a standard villain in the opera than in the play). Verdi's orchestral writing in Otello is more highly developed than in any of Verdi's previous masterpieces. Though the orchestra plays a significant role in his earlier works, never before had Verdi, or Italian opera in general, been so daring and complex in orchestration. Throughout the score instances of dissonance appear, and Otello's entrance is marked by a cluster chord made of C–C♯–D. It has been argued that Otello was influenced by Richard Wagner's work, whereas others believe it was pitted directly against it.

Musical analysis

Act 1

The storm which dominates the opening chorus is portrayed vividly by the orchestra. Rapidly changing sixteenth notes played by the lower strings and woodwinds create an image of a turbulent sea while rising and descending scales in the upper woodwinds represent the unpredictable patterns of the wind in the tempest. Frequent interjections from the brass and percussion portray the bolts of lightning and thunder which accompany the storm. Otello's first entrance is marked by brass instruments for a sense of grandeur. Verdi adds to the anxiety by having the organ hold its three lowest notes in a cluster (C–C♯–D) through the entire scene. At the end, the woodwinds gradually calm down to portray the fading of the storm, and finally the release of the low organ discord completes the feeling of relief. When the chorus sings of their joy, the high woodwinds now portray the sparkling, cheerful flames.

In the drinking song that follows, Verdi makes use of the bassoons and other low instruments in order to represent the internal effects of alcohol upon Cassio. However, this is gradually eclipsed by the merry themes which follow in the orchestra and chorus ("Chi all'esca ha morso"). The merriment of the celebrations suddenly become frantic, as Cassio challenges Montano to a duel. The full orchestra builds up to a climax as they fight whilst Iago orders Roderigo to go and alert the entire town until the ordeal is interrupted by a loud statement made by the entering Otello.

Accented notes in the orchestra, particularly in the strings, reflect the annoyance of Otello at having his sleep disturbed. Notes played piano and pizzicato by the strings accompany Iago's account of the events, giving his account a feeling of false remorse and unhappiness. Upon Otello's orders, the disturbed islanders return to their homes, accompanied by legato notes in the upper strings and woodwinds depicting the calm that has once more been reestablished.

The great love duet which ends the act commences with a statement from Otello accompanied by cellos playing pianissimo. Desdemona's reply to him is accompanied by the violins and violas, providing a contrast to the statements made by Otello previously. When the duet proper starts ("Quando narravi"), sixteenth notes played by the harp and quarter notes played by the horns and bassoons give the music a sense of motion as Desdemona describes the narrations that Otello had given her about his life. As Otello commences to speak about how he narrated the battles in which he fought, thirty-second notes in the strings in addition to the inclusion of the lower brass instruments reflect the violent topics of Otello's previous narration. However, upon Desdemona's next vocal entrance several bars later, this immense energy is translated to an overall sense of the passion of the two lover's love for each other through the use of some of the more expressive wind instruments such as the English Horn. The duet continues to build up in passion until its climax, the appearance of the "kiss" theme which reappears twice more in the Opera near the end. After this, the music begins to tone down until the act ends with a trill in two of the first violins and a plucked chord on the harp.

Act 2

The act commences with a series of dark threatening statements from the bassoons and cellos followed by repeats of these in the clarinets and violas. Quickly, a theme forms that appears to reflect the calm that has remained in the castle after the brawl the night before. However, this tone is only superficial; repeated descending chromatic scales in the strings during the brief orchestral prelude create a darker atmosphere associated with the plotting of Iago.

Iago's brief conversation with Cassio is marked by the theme from the act's introduction, making Iago appear strangely affable when he suggests that Cassio consult Desdemona; however, as before, an underlying dark tone remains.

Upon Cassio's exit, this dark tone rapidly becomes predominant as the gestures which opened the act repeat, but this time, will a full string and woodwind section. The famous aria that follows ("Credo in un Dio crudel") is marked by trills in the lowest clarinet register and quick yet powerfully accented notes played by the full orchestra at several intervals that portray the evil of Iago to its fullest extent.

Nevertheless, Iago's evil reverie is interrupted by the appearance of Desdemona and Cassio. The urgency felt by Iago in the situation is reflected in the staccato eight notes in the strings which accompany his witnessing of the situation. However, upon Otello's entry the music suddenly becomes much calmer. Otello's response to Iago's question about the preexisting relationship between Cassio and Desdemona is a typical love melody which would have been standard in an earlier Verdi opera, yet it lacks the passion that would typically accompany it and is cut short by Iago's interjection. Otello's annoyance with Iago for not directly stating his "suspicions" is suddenly reflected by an outburst in the orchestra. This is the second instance in the opera in which Otello's potential anger has been made apparent. As Iago gives the equivalent of the famous Shakespearean line from the play ("È un'idra fosca"), the low strings and woodwinds create a dark tone during this scene.

This darkness, however is interrupted by the appearance of a chorus. The chorus is accompanied by folk instruments such as the mandolin and guitar in order to give the music a more authentic feel. However, the music is slow and intentionally sweet in quality, reflecting the kind innocence of Desdemona.

The quartet that follows the episode begins with a similarly sweet statement by Desdemona, asking for Otello to forgive her if she has done anything. This is overshadowed by the aside brooding of Otello about his perception of her guilt, which is marked by shorter, more separated phrases in the strings. Meanwhile, as Iago and Emilia join into the music with their quarrel, the music darkens until it is strangely sad towards the end, even when the orchestral accompaniment ends. After the end of the quartet proper, the music once again regains its sweet nature, as Desdemona's farewell statements are accompanied by the violins and oboe, however soon after her departure, it rapidly darkens, Otello broods to the incessant notes of the bassoons and lower violin statements. However, this is immediately transferred into an anger towards Iago which is reflected in the accented statements made by the full orchestra. Otello's distress is reflected by his farewell to fame and glory ("Ora e per sempre addio"). Repeated lower chords on the harp along with triplet movement in the lower strings give the portion a dark tone, despite the majestic interludes of the brass and the melody (which would, on its own, be cheerful).

During Iago's untruthful account of Cassio's dream, strings and high woodwind instruments are used in order to create a dream-like atmosphere in the music. Descending chromatic scales both add to this atmosphere and maintain the dark overall tone which has pervaded.

The act ends with an energetic finale in which Iago and Otello swear to have vengeance. The energy of this final duet is provided by the full orchestra, which accompanies it.

Act 3

The brief prelude to the third act uses the theme which had accompanied Iago's warning to Otello about jealousy in the second act. It begin with the lower strings, immediately creating the dark theme that will be present throughout the act, even if in a hidden subsurface manner. The prelude gradually builds up until its climax with the entire orchestra.

Desdemona's appearance in the act is once again accompanied by a sweet melody, however, this is quickly subdued as Otello, in his frustration, calls her a "vil cortigiana" at which point the anger of Otello is once again portrayed by a full orchestra with brass. The music that accompanies Desdemona's reaction to this sudden outburst is sad, yet the woodwinds give it an oddly noble character, which again reaffirms her overall innocence.

After Desdemona's departure, Iago stages an interrogation of Cassio in front of Otello. This interrogation takes the form of a friendly conversation and is accompanied by jocular sixteenth note runs in the woodwinds, reflecting the joy of Cassio about his love interest with the woman Bianca. This happily playful tone is contrasted with the dark asides of the watching Otello. Throughout this scene, the dark tone pervades.

The full scene that follows is grand in the orchestration, with abundant use of brass throughout. However, following Otello's angry outbursts near the end, it quickly becomes dark and sad after Otello strikes Desdemona.

After the departure of all of the members of the scene, the turmoil within Otello's mind is reflected by the restlessness of the orchestra, which becomes increasingly violent as he falls into his trance. The dark singing of the triumphant Iago is contrasted with the majestic brass and external choral interjections praising Otello..

Act 4

The act begins with a brief prelude of woodwind instruments, particularly the English horn and oboe, which bring a sad and mourning atmosphere to the act, reflecting the sentiments which manifest themselves in Desdemona. All the while, clarinets playing in the lowest register on repeating chords create a sense of impending doom. The theme upon which this prelude is built is that of the later "Willow Song".

In the brief recitativo between Desdemona and Emilia which begins the act, the despairing tone begun in the introduction continues.

The "Willow Song" ("Mia madre aveva una povera ancella") which follows is marked by an increasing orchestral sound, with woodwinds and strings adding to it, yet what compounds the sadness of the piece is the wail-like cries of "Salce" made by Desdemona followed by similarly despairing, yet softer "echoes" played by the English horn. Near the end of the song, Desdemona's fear, which has been hidden up to this point by a veil of sadness, is made apparent; she mistakes the noise of the wind for that of an intruder. The orchestra immediately builds to a fortissimo, reflecting the genuine worries possessed by Desdemona. The music that gradually lessens with the comforting of Emilia and returns for a final repetition of the theme of the "Willow Song".

Afterwards, Desdemona begins to bid Emilia adieu. This goodbye is initially accompanied by repeated notes on the lower woodwinds and strings such as those in the introduction of the act but in a much more noticeable and dominating manner. This reflects the increasing expectation of Desdemona of her death. Initially, she attempts to keep these feelings to herself, but the orchestra reveals her increasing inner thoughts. These feelings finally reach a point at which they can no longer be contained and Desdemona lets out a loud passionate cry of goodbye to Emilia, one that is reinforced by the full orchestral accompaniment.

Following Emilia's departure, Desdemona prays. Like many of Desdemona's earlier vocal appearances in the opera, these prayers contain a sweet nature, reflecting, for the final time, the innocence of the wrongly accused woman. The melody within the strings that appears later in the prayer scene adds significantly to the poignancy of the situation.

After she goes to bed, a sinister theme appears in the string bass, depicting Otello's entrance. This effectively replaces the sad tone which was present throughout the first portions with the dark one which marked much of the second and third acts. The low theme begins very slowly, but gradually accelerates until there is a sudden outburst with the full orchestra. However, soon afterwards, the music drops down to a soft tremolo in the strings. Above this, a theme that evokes Otello's longing for Desdemona appears in the English horn and bassoons. This theme builds up until it finally gives way to the "kiss" theme from act 1, as Otello embraces the sleeping Desdemona. However this second appearance of the theme is even more passionate than the first one and adds to the poignancy of the tragedy.

Once Desdemona awakens, the music retreats to the theme that accompanied Otello's entrance, but with a more threatening feel this time as brass instruments are added. As Otello demands that Desdemona confess, the music accelerates, reaching a climax at the point where Desdemona is strangled. After this, though the power of the orchestra lessens, it maintains its darkness throughout the scene of Emilia's discovery of the murder and Desdemona's final death.

The scene with that follows is marked by a theme that is somewhat majestic and proud, however, as it is limited to the woodwinds, it seems weak. This reflects the loss of power and honor that have faced Otello.

As Otello laments his actions to the theme of his longing, he decides to commit suicide. Just before he dies, the orchestra plays the "kiss" motif one final time before the opera ends.

HIJO DE FRUCTIDOR

Este es el último blog que sigo:
http://hijodefructidor.blogspot.com.es/

Jesús Lacasa Vidal

Zaragoza, Aragón, Spain

Animal político que vive a orillas del Ebro (fui diputado y coordinador general de IU Aragón, algo de lo que estoy orgulloso). De formación jurídica, desviación corregida por la pasión política y la fe en el compromiso. Este dietario propone un viaje por la rosa y la espada.

Bajo el signo de Fructidor

Parafraseando a David Copperfield, comenzaré diciendo que nací un día de Fructidor del año 171 (después de la Revolución, claro está) y ya se vio entonces que el signo de los tiempos era controvertido. El golpe de estado de Fructidor del año V tuvo como virtud desterrar en la Guayana a una buena ración de realistas y rancios conservadores, pero, como efecto secundario nada deseable, acercar el poder a los militares y, en definitiva, a Napoleón.

Así nos movemos casi siempre, entre Scila y Caribdis, con grave peligro para nuestas vidas, pero con toda el ansia de seguir disfrutándolas.

Os invito a acompañarme en vuestros ratos perdidos en esta aventura apasionante, para razonar juntos y colectivamente fortalecernos en la lucha por tiempos mejores y más humanos.

CRY MERCY AND GENTLENESS

An Ancient Feminist

by Karin Heyer

(Inspired by the tale of Salmacis and Hermaphhroditus)

>>>>

Outrageous, Shameless,

She outstripped the moon

the moralist cried,

‘Even in modern days’!

Moralists prefer the wavering count:

‘he loves me, he loves me not,

he loves me, he loves me not…’

She must wait,

Pained and demure,

For his first move.

>>>

>>>>

Dare I, dare I not?

I dare, Salmacis cried:

I desire this beautiful youth,

Equality does not forbid daring.

In love they were one

and thus completed their destiny.

the well

by Nat Hall

from the divine,
son of adam,
daughter of eve, fruit of apples, starts with a h-

>>>>>h for Hermes,

e for ego, experiment extraordinaire,
r for rondo written in haste when all is dark,
m as mountain – metamorphosis to winged child,
a for amour, for whom a nymph fired passion inside the well,
p as prayer to be united forever, the peculiar duality,
h for hailing “heal me, baby” in a halo,
>>>>r for result or redemption,
>>>>>>>>o shaped their lips like an omen,
>>>>>>>>>>>>d for derelict womb-mama-man
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>i incarnates
>>>>>>>>>>>>their raison d’être,
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>u for uniformed by great gods,
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>s for no one but Salmacis.

>>>>
Nat Hall 2013

Bathe

by Nell Perry

THE NÄCKEN'S SONG

The Näcken's Song

Along the gravelly, rutted rues
Of wintry Paris; worn and weary, 
Trod the bundled, frigid few;
To their home-hearths blazing cheery,
Afore the night’s unfurling gloom
Should swallow them in snowdrifts dreary.
Nay, one lady, grave and fair, 
Remain’d atop the Garnier, 
Enfolded in the frozen air,
Wringing icy fingers; waited
Where the grey roofs tower’d high
And gargoyles perch’d, sublime and sated;
Sentinel lords o’er passers-by,
For her love, two hours’ belated,
Until the darkness cloak’d the sky.

Christine Daaé, Northern daughter,
Flaxen locks and rosy face;
Whispers tales her father taught her:
Trolls and goblins, dolls and lace.
Of Skogsra leading hunters’ slaughter,
Children of the changeling race.
Or milking maids, who at first sight
Would fancy Näcken water sprite,
And dared give chase in blind delight.
Tho’ the best-loved tale, she oft did say
Was Little Lotte, asleep in her bed;
And in her dreams, was carried away 
By an Angel’s voice inside her head. 
On seas of song, she’d blissfully sway
‘Til into the night, day brightly bled.

Upon the stones, this poor Mam’selle,
In ribbons blue and bobbles borrow’d,
Breathed a song she knew very well,
Hiding hated tears and sorrow,
Fearful of the fate befell’d
Her childhood friend; for on the morrow
With the dawning of the sun,
Man and Wife would wildly run
Toward Sweden’s freedom, finally won.
Raoul de Chagny, her youthful lover
Swore to steal her away that night
From watchful, yellow eyes that hover,
Lurking in shady, shelter’d heights,
Or depths of the opera ne’er discover’d, 
Where darkness reigns in place of light.

Cursing cold black’s baneful tiding,
O’er her lost love bitterly wept,
Unaware in bowers hiding—
Death’s Mask—to the shadows kept;
In cavernous hell no more residing,
Closer to empyrean crept,
Bent to banish from his life,
Long lonely years; no more in strife
With Christine as his living wife.
The Shadow beckoned to his singer;
Calloused by her hidden tryst, 
He steeled his smile and wrapped cold fingers 
Round her little, lily wrist.
Above her hand his corpse lips linger’d,
Blessing it with a ghostly kiss.

And with calm countenance barely shor’d,
Vaingloriously gestured to her hand.
She braved a glance and to her horror,
Found on it a golden band:
A wedding ring, no less no more,
To bind her to the darkness, damned. 
“Erik, poor Erik,” she whisper’d low,
“Pray, do not take me there below,
‘Cross Averne’s lurid ebb and flow
To your bleak tomb’s dank recess
Where daylight bold holds little worth.
And thus embrac’d by death’s caress,
I’ll sleep upon my funeral berth.
I ask no silk, jewel or largess,
Nay—just to live above the earth!”

But Angel cruel refused to listen,
Sweeping down dark halls, unheard,
Halting not, ‘til torchlight’s glisten
Met them in the mirror blur’d.
And wounded by her grim admission, 
To his bride, cried, undeter’d:
“None, save this, I can deny!
Gentle wife, your eyes please dry;
Your husband loathes to see you cry.”
Beneath the opera they descended
Thru labyrinths iced in winter’s wake;
His boat o’er waters veer’d and bended
To his lair beyond the lake.
With fair Christine, the ghost intended
Day forever to forsake.

He asked, “Recall sweet Music’s fire?
Thru memories veil’d, sift and sieve. 
It lifted you to lofty spires
And in my song, you’d joy to live 
Beneath the spell of Apollo’s lyre; 
Music anew, I’ll gladly give.”
Her gaze was bright and glassy-eyed,
But trembling lips at once belied
Her saddened soul. In vain, he sigh’d,
“Those perilous paths, my warning heed:
A fool’s death waits, if there you roam.
Christine, take refuge here with me;
Happily make this place your home.
Now rest your head upon my knee
And listen to this fairytale tome.

“You’ve heard of ellevolk’s leafy keep,
Of gygers’ knolls, or wood nymphs’ tails
In forests bosky, play and sleep;
Or of drown’d draugs’ shrieks and wails,
And sailors call’d by sirens deep
To lose their way in violent gales.
But water Nacken, solitary,
Is wickedest of all the fairy.
O’er his fine form, maid’s eyes tarry
‘Til desire clouds right and wrong,
And with fair fiddle, wooden hollow,
Lures her from life’s clanging throng
To watery grave in beryl streams shallow. 
If e’er you hear the Näcken’s song—
Christine, please swear you will not follow.”

With bated breath, she flinch’d in fear
When spider fingers deftly brush’d
A wayward lock behind her ear.
Ashy cheeks red ruddy flush’d,
Leapt to her feet, lest he draw nearer,
And to her bedroom’s haven, rush’d
To bolt the door and turn the lock, 
Then hours listen’d for a knock
‘Til hands turn’d quarter round the clock.
Thus into dreams at last she stray’d
When all about was eerily still;
Specters cut in hues array’d
Wove their gossamer webs until
Sleep’s feeble fabric quick was fray’d
By a violin’s muted trill.

The music danced, the music addled; 
Bow strokes strong to pierce the gloom.
She rose from her bed and lit a candle,
Afraid she’d wake her ghoulish groom;
With fingers shaky, turn’d the handle,
Bent to find she knew not whom.
Mind bewitch’d by music’s guide,
She flung the front door open wide,
Wander’d to the waterside;
Down she trod, as one bemused
And knelt o’er mirrors, unaware;
Smiling faintly, nimbly loosed
The soft waves of her yellow hair; 
And in her image pale diffused,
Saw the water’s deep despair. 

Slipping to the boat unseen,
She steered the way she’d come before.
Beyond the lake, a pale white sheen
Glided ‘cross the distant shore;
The fine form of Raoul de Chagny
Her love, she’d thought to see no more.
Blue eyes wide in disbelief,
Faint heart ousting bitter grief,
She leapt to rocky ground’s relief
For northern Sweden ready to fly;
Cast away her dismal fate
To dream of morning’s blessed sky,
And dusky sunsets roseate.
She bade the lair one last goodbye
And frantically cried “My dearest, wait!”

Mid-stride he halted, taken aback,
Then calmly, languidly twist’d round
His mouth was wide and yawning black,
Yet from his lips there came no sound.
At once he vanish’d thru stone cracks
Into forbidden undergrounds.
With steadfast mettle she trail’d along,
Winding thru the labyrinth long,
All the while, listening for the song.
She walk’d in silent darkness slowly
Fearful that she’d never find him.
Fingers grazed o’er flint walls lowly,
Braced for doppelganger grim, 
When thru the murk rang music holy:
A violin’s doleful Requiem.

Sanctus did its summons sing,
Leading her to the depths of hell.
Shadows stretch’d like devil’s wings
Thru endless paths; she tripped and fell
O’er cellar rats and unknown things,
‘Til death hail’d with its silver smell.
Candle high like funereal mourner,
She cross’d herself and turn’d the corner,
Screaming at the sight before her:
Everywhere the walls ran ruddy,
Swath’d in red-fringed drapery;
Sick, she knelt on stone floor muddy—
There, sprawl’d cold upon the lee
Was the murder’d body, bloody,
Of her love, Raoul de Chagny.

His eyes and lips were frost’d hoary;
Round his neck, a rope’s death mark.
She back’d away; on slick ground gory, 
Slip’d and snuff’d the candle dark.
All around the Näcken’s story
Fiercely plea’d for her to hark;
Death’s cold fingers clutch’d her mind;
She stumbled through the passages blind,
Caring not which way they’d wind.
Thru icy tunnels, terror chill’d—
The violin’s song grew wildly welter’d
—Fleeing, lest she too be kill’d.
Willy-nilly, helter-skelter,
Here and there; she furiously will’d
Lead feet to carry her to shelter.

“Erik, my Erik!” she cried in anguish,
Frantic in the throes of strife,
“Do not leave me here to languish—
Come and find your little wife!
You’ve won,” she sobbed, “my soul is vanquish’d—
I swear I’ll live with you for life!”
Still, escape ever eluded her;
Jutted, jagged path stones hew’d her
As the Näcken’s song pursued her.
A dervish, round the tunnels whirl’d
Fire feet ached and raw throat burn’d
Until, at last, the path unfurl’d
To well-known ground, where rock met silvern
Thru the cavern, echoes purl’d
Above the noxious Lake Averne. 

Down to the lake front, she went dashing
Where the boat bobbed ‘long the edge
And heedless, ran thru waters, splashing
Midst the slippery silt and dredge
‘Til all at once, she came down, crashing
Thru a sunken, rocky ledge.
The shifting bed of Averne thunder’d
Perilous stones collapsed asunder
‘Neath her feet and pull’d her under.
She flail’d and fought against the rocks,
Yet they held fast, like pitiless tyrants
Pinning down her frilly frock
With crushing weight, so swift and violent,
She ne’er had time to cry in shock
Before her captor forced her silent.

Black and hellish, heavy laden
Waters clasp’d her cold limbs chilly,
‘Til her struggle slowly faded
And fingers flutter’d against chantilly
Clouds of cloth ‘round her cascaded,
Pale drifting like a waterlily
By peaceful waves; her frenzy slaked
And seal’d her fate, no more to wake—
Drown’d upon the glassy lake.

Along her death path, Shadow strode,
Pierced by eerie light within:
A pair of yellow eyes that glow’d
Behind a figure, shroud’d thin.
Humming remnants of an epode,
He drew from his cloak, a violin.

Bloodless face and yellow eyes stared,
Admitting neither rage nor hate,
As one who’s wholly unprepared
To see such forlorn, tragic fate; 
So slowly was his mind ensnared
By bitter care of one too late
To save his beloved, macabre bride. 
He dove down to her watery abide
And pull’d her to his corpsy side
Beyond the tumbling waves’ rote, 
From waters slithering serpentine.
In blood-red ink: his requiem’s notes
He scrawl’d on paper white pristine,
Then finally ‘cross the top he wrote
In messy letters, “For Christine.”

He placed it under her cold, dead hands
And slid his bony fingers, tangled,
Into her hair of seaweed strands
With ragged breath; his heart was mangled
When he glimpsed her wedding band,
And said in low voice strange and strangled:
“Christine, Christine, my careless reacher—
I warned about the Näcken creature,
Yet you’d not listen to your teacher.
Dear, do you find this game grows dreary?
All that could be giv’n, we gave;
Now on me, rest your heavy head weary;
Know, with you, I’ll share my grave.”
With one last kiss to each eye bleary,
He let her slip beneath the waves.

Bent to do just as he swore,
The phantom return’d to sepulchral shore
And lies there, still, to rise no more.

Christine Daaé, Northern daughter,
Death-dim eyes and tresses long;
Believed the tales her father taught her:
Truth or fable, right or wrong.
Now she sleeps below the water,
Victim of the Näcken’s song.