Free The Tragedy of Mister Morn by Vladimir Nabokov, Thomas Karshan, Anastasia Tolstoy

one … Hey, who is there above the rooftops?
    You, God? Forgive me, then, what people
    will not forgive! What’s better—standing or sitting?
    Sitting is better. Quick. Just don’t think! …
    Snap—the cartridge, in! The muzzle to the chest.
    Below the rib. Here’s the heart. Like so.
    Now the safety catch … goosebumps on my chest.
    The muzzle’s cold, like thelacquer tube
    applied by a doctor: he breathes in, he listens …
    and his bald pate and the tube rise up
    in rhythm with my chest …
No, wait!
    That is not how people shoot themselves …
    This needs to be thought through … One. Two.
    Three. Four. Five. Six. Six steps from the chair
    to the window. The snow shines. How starry
    is the sky! God, give me strength,
    give me strength, I beg you—give me strength …
    There sleeps my city, all in hoar-frost,
    all in a blue shroud. O, my dear! … Farewell,
    forgive me … I ruled for four years … created
    an age of happiness, an age of harmony … God,
    give me strength … Playfully, lightly I ruled;
    I appeared in a black mask in the ringing hall,
    before my cold, decrepit senators … masterfully
    I revived them—and left again, laughing …
    laughing … And sometimes, in patched-up clothes,
    I sat in a tavern and grunted with the ruddy
    drunken coachmen; a dog would wag its tail
    under the table, and a girl would tug me
    by the sleeve, though I looked like a pauper …
    Four years passed, and now, in the radiant noon
    of my life, I must abandon my kingdom, must
    jump from the throne to death—O, God,—all
    because I kissed a shallow woman and struck
    a foolish adversary! I could have had him …
    O conscience, conscience—the cold angel
    at the back of thought: thought turns—there’s
    no one there; but behind, it rises up again.
    Enough! I must, must die! O, if only
    it could not be so, not so, but in sight
    of the world, in the hot storm of battle,
    to the thunder of hooves, atop a sweaty steed,
    so as to greet death with an immortal cry
    and gallop headlong through the sky into
    heaven’s yard, where the splash of water
    can be heard, and a seraph scrubs the horse
    of St. George! Yes, death would be rapture then! …
    But here I am—alone … only candle flame—
    a thousand-eyed spy—watches from under
    the suspicious mirrors … But I must die!
    There is no glory—there is eternity
    and man … What’s this crown for? It digs
    into my temples, damned thing! Off with it!
    Like so … like so … roll across the dark carpet,
    like a wheel of fire … Now quickly! Don’t think!
    Plunge reason in icy water! One movement:
    press the curved trigger … One movement …
    How many times have I pressed door handles,
    the buttons of doorbells … And now … And now …
    I don’t know how! My finger on the trigger
    is weaker than a worm … What’s a kingdom to me?
    What’s valour? To live, only to live … O, God!
    Edmin!
[ approaches the door; calls out like a child ]
    Edmin!
[ EDMIN enters . MORN stands with his back to him .]
I can’t …
[ Pause .]
Why do you
    stand there, why do you look at me? Or,
    perhaps, you think that I’m a … Listen, here,
    I’ll explain … Edmin, you understand … I love her …
    I love Midia! My kingdom and my soul
    I am prepared to yield, if only not
    to part from her! My friend, listen, do not
    blame me … do not blame me …
    EDMIN:
My sovereign, I’m happy …
    You are my hero … I’m not even worthy …
    MORN:
Really?
    Really? … Well then … I’m pleased … Earthly love
    is higher, stronger, than heavenly valour … Though you,
    Edmin, don’t love … you cannot understand
    that a man is capable of burning worlds
    for a woman … So then—it is decided.
    I’ll flee from here … there is no other way.
    For in truth—I ruled without a care.
    Such carelessness is power. That has gone.
    Oh, how can I rule, when the Devil himself
    has melted the crown on my poor