1.     Moondrunk

The wine we drink through the eyes
Flows nightly from the moon in torrents,
And as a spring-tide overflows
The far and distant land.

Desires terrible and sweet
Drift in numberless floods.
The wine we drink through the eyes
Flows nightly from the moon in torrents.

The poet, in an ecstasy,
Drinks deeply from the holy chalice,
Lifts up his entranced head to heaven
And reeling, quaffs and drains
The wine which we drink through the eyes.

2.     Colombine

The pallid buds of moonlight,
Those white and wondrous roses,
Bloom in the summer nights –
If only I could pluck just one! 

To lighten my heavy heart,
I search in the darkening river
The pallid buds of moonlight,
Those white and wondrous roses.

My longing would be fulfilled
If I could softly gather,
And sprinkle with gentle care,
Upon your dark brown tresses
The pallid buds of moonlight.

3.     The Dandy

With a phantasmagorical ray of light
All the crystalline flasks light up at night
On the holy, sacred ebony wash-stand
Of the taciturn dandy of Bergamo.

In a sonorous bronze chalice
The fountain laughs with a bright, metallic sound
With a phantasmagorical ray of light
All the crystalline flasks light up at night. 

Pierrot with a waxy countenance stands musing
And thinks - how will he paint tonight?
Rejecting the red and green of the Orient
He paints his face in the latest styles
With a phantasmagorical ray of light.

4.     A pale laundry maid 

A pale laundry maid
Washes white silk garments every night;
Naked, snow-white silvery forearms
Stretch down towards the flood.

Through the field gentle breezes waft
Softly over the stream.
A pale laundry maid
Washes white silk garments every night.

And the gentle maid of heaven
Next to the softly-folded branches
Spreads on the dusky meadow
All her moonlight-woven linen.
A pale laundry maid.

5.     Valse de Chopin

Like a lingering drop of blood
Stains the lip of a consumptive
So this music is pervaded
By a morbid deathly charm. 

Wild ecstatic harmonies
Disguise the icy touch of doom
Like a lingering drop of blood
Stains the lip of a consumptive. 

Ardent, joyful, sweet and yearning,
Melancholic, sombre waltzes
Coursing ever through my senses,
Clinging to my thoughts
Like a lingering drop of blood!

6.     Madonna

Rise, o mother of all sorrows
From the altar of my verses!
Blood pours forth from thy lean bosom
Where the sword of frenzy pierced it. 

Thy forever-gaping gashes
Are like eyelids, red and open.
Rise, o mother of all sorrows
From the altar of my verses! 

In thy lacerated arms
Holdst thou thy Son’s holy body,
Manifesting Him to mankind –
Yet the eyes of men avert themselves,
O mother of all sorrows!

7.     The sick moon

You sick, death-awaiting moon,
High upon heaven’s dusty couch,
Your glance, so outsized and feverish
Lures me, like a strange enchanting song. 

With unrequited pain of love
You die, your longing deeply concealed.
You sick, death-awaiting moon,
High upon heaven’s dusty couch. 

The lover, stirred by sharp desire
Seeks recklessly for love’s embrace.
Exults in your bright play of light –
Your pale and pain-filled flood,
You sick, death-awaiting moon.

8.     Night

Dark, black giant moths
Massacre the sun’s rays
Like a closed-shut magic book
Brood the distant sky in silence. 

From the mists in deep recesses
Rise up scents, destroying memory.
Dark, black giant moths
Massacre the sun’s rays.

And from heaven toward earth
They sink with heavy wings
Invisible, hordes of monsters
On the hearts and souls of mankind.
Dark, black giant moths.

9.     Prayer to Pierrot

Pierrot! My laughter
Have I unlearned!
The picture’s brightness
Dissolves! 

The flag is black
Which now flies from my mast.
Pierrot! My laughter
Have I unlearned. 

O give me once again,
Healer of spirits,
Snowman of lyrics,
Monarch of the moon,
Pierrot – my laughter!

10.     Robbery        

Ancient royalty’s red rubies,
Bloody drops of antique glory,
Slumber in the hollow coffins
Buried in the vaulted caverns. 

Late at night with jolly companions
Pierrot descends to ravish
Ancient royalty’s red rubies,
Bloody drops of antique glory. 

But there – every hair bristling,
Livid fear turns them to statues;
Through the murky gloom, like eyes! –
Staring from the hollow coffins
Ancient royalty’s red rubies.

11.     Red Mass

To fearsome grim communion
Where dazzling rays of gold gleam,
And flickering light of candles,
Comes to the altar – Pierrot! 

His hand, invested with grace,
Rends through the priestly garments,
To fearsome grim communion
Where dazzling rays of gold gleam.

With signs of benediction
He shows to frightened souls
The dripping crimson water:
His heart – with bloody fingers
To fearsome grim communion!

12.     Song of the Gallows

The haggard harlot
With a long neck
Will be his
Last lover. 

Through all his thoughts
There sticks like a nail
The haggard harlot
With a long neck. 

Thin as a rake,
A pigtail around her neck
Joyfully will she
Embrace the rascal,
The haggard harlot!

13.     Decapitation

The moon, a clear scimitar,
Upon a black silk cushion
Hangs strangely large and menacing
Through sorrow’s gloomy night. 

Pierrot wanders restlessly,
Stares upon high in anguished fear.
To the moon, a clear scimitar,
Upon a black silk cushion. 

His knees are like aspen leaves,
Swooning he falters, then collapses.
He thinks: the hissing vengeful steel
Will fall upon his neck in judgement,
The moon a clear scimitar.

14.     The Crosses

Holy crosses are the verses
Where poets bleed in silence,
Blinded by the pack of vultures
Flying round in a ghostly swarm! 

Swords have feasted on their bodies
Bathing in the scarlet bloodstream
Holy crosses are the verses
Where poets bleed in silence. 

Death then comes –dispersing the ashes –
Far away from the rabble’s clamour,
Slowly sinks the sun’s red splendour,
Like a royal crown –
Holy crosses are the verses!

15.     Homesickness

 Sweetly sorrowful – a crystal sigh
That comes from Italy’s old pantomimes
Sadly mourning that Pierrot has become
So modern and sickly sentimental. 

And it echoes from the desert of his heart,
Muted tones which wind through all his senses
Sweetly sorrowful – a crystal sigh
That comes from Italy’s old pantomimes. 

Now Pierrot rejects the tragic manner!
Through the pale fires of the moon,
Through the foaming sea of light – mounts the longing
Surging high towards his native heaven,
Sweetly sorrowful – a crystal sigh!

16.     Atrocity

Into the bald head of Cassander,
As he tears the air with screeches
Bores Pierrot in falsely tender fashion
– with a cranium driller! 

He then presses with his thumb
Rare tobacco grown in Turkey
Into the bald head of Cassander,
As he tears the air with screeches! 

Then screwing a cherry pipe stem
Right in through the polished surface,
He sits at ease and smokes and puffs the
Rare tobacco grown in Turkey
In the bald head of Cassander!

17.     Parody

Knitting needles, bright and polished,
Set in her greying hair,
Sits the Duenna, mumbling,
Dressed in a crimson skirt. 

She lingers in the pergola,
She loves Pierrot with passion,
Knitting needles, bright and polished,
Set in her greying hair. 

But, listen, what a whisper
A zephyr titters softly;
The moon, the wicked mocker,
Now mimics with light rays
Knitting needles, bright and polished.

18. The Moonfleck

A white fleck of shining moonlight
On the shoulder of his black coat
So walks out Pierrot this languid evening
Seeking love’s adventure everywhere. 

But suddenly – is something wrong with his suit?
He searches around and then finds it
A white fleck of shining moonlight
On the shoulder of his black coat. 

Wait now! He thinks – it’s a piece of plaster!
He wipes and wipes yet cannot remove it!
So he goes on, poisoned with his fancy,
Rubs and rubs until the early morning
A white fleck of shining moonlight.

19. Serenade 

With a grotesque giant bow
Pierrot scrapes on his viola,
Like a stork on one leg standing
Sadly plucking a pizzicato. 

Suddenly Cassander comes – fuming
At this night-time virtuoso,
With a grotesque giant bow
Pierrot scrapes on his viola. 

Now he casts aside his viola
With his delicate left hand he
Grips the bald head by the collar –
Dreaming he plays upon him
With a grotesque giant bow.

20. Homeward journey

The moonbeam is the rudder,
A water lily serves as boat,
On which Pierrot goes southward,
The wind behind his sails. 

The river hums in deep tones
And rocks the light canoe.
The moonbeam is the rudder,
A water lily serves as boat. 

To Bergamo, his homeland,
Pierrot once more returns.
Soft gleams in the East
The green horizon –
The moonbeam is the rudder.

21. O ancient scent

O ancient scent from far-off times,
Intoxicate my senses again!
A merry swarm of idle thoughts
Pervades the gentle air. 

A happy wish makes me aspire
To joys which I neglected for too long.
O ancient scent from far-off times,
Intoxicate my senses again! 

Now all my sorrow is dispelled,
And from my sundrenched window
I view the lovely world again
And dream beyond the far horizon…
O ancient scent – from far-off times!