MURDER/by Hanoch Levin（ACT 1）

MURDER

A Play in Three Acts and an Epilogue

by Hanoch Levin


Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara Harshav



ACT ONE

(Boy’s house. Boy. Three soldiers. The Boy is wounded all over. Twitches. Finally falls silent)
Pale Soldier: He dead or just...?
Flushed Soldier: Dead.
Pale Soldier: ‘Cause if he’s not dead...
Flushed Soldier: He’s dead, it’s checked out.
Pale Soldier: I never saw a dead person.
Flushed Soldier: Finally you did.
Tanned Soldier: (Hums to himself)
A merry shit ‘mid thorns and prickles,
between your balls it twines and tickles.
Boy: (Mumbles)
Have pity on me!...
Pale Soldier: He’s alive!
Flushed Soldier: See him as dead.
Boy: I want Papa!...
He’ll take me to the doctor!...
Tanned Soldier: A merry shit ‘mid thorns and prickles,
between your balls it twines and tickles
Boy: Have pity on me!
I want Papa!...
Pale Soldier: I can’t listen to any more of that begging!
Flushed Soldier: Really how much can you take?
What’s the big deal he’s begging for.
Garbage all around and this guy’s gurgling “Papa.”
Pale Soldier: Let’s go, we’ve got nothing to do here.
We won’t hear him.
Flushed Soldier: You’ve got something there. He’s a big boy,
he can die all by himself.
Tanned Soldier: Down deep inside he’s a boy who still needs a banana.
Flushed Soldier: They didn’t supply us with bananas.
Where’ll we get him a banana?
Tanned Soldier: (Points his toe at the boy’s crotch)
Pick him a banana and put it in his mouth.
Flushed Soldier: (To Pale Soldier)
Pick him a banana and put it in his mouth.
Pale Soldier: (Fascinated by the boy, looks at him as if hypnotized)
God Almighty, we really can do anything!
(Bends over the boy, touches him gingerly)
I’m touching him and he lets me.
No protest, no revolt,
Like his flesh isn’t his anymore.
I don’t understand it.
Still a human being and not anymore.
I don’t understand it.
You can do anything to him, anything!
Tanned Soldier: The world’s a big place.
Flushed Soldier: [The world’s outside, the brain’s inside --]
No limit to the possibilities.
(Bends over the boy and quickly takes down his pants. The Tanned Soldier pulls out a knife and also bends over. The Boy’s Father enters, stands in the door)
The Father: Anybody seen my boy?
(The Soldiers get up off the boy’s corpse, the Tanned Soldier hides his knife)
Flushed Soldier: You mean this?
The Father: I don’t know.
I can’t see from here.
I’m afraid that will be him.
What will I do if it is him?
(Approaches the body, recognizes his son)
Oh!...
(Sinks down on the body, groans)
Oh, boy, boy, what can I do!...
(Falls silent. Lifts his eyes to the Soldiers)
I think he needs a doctor.
Flushed Soldier: He’s dead.
The Father: Dead? My boy—and death?
Get up, boy! Boy, get up!
Boy, open your eyes it’s your father, boy!
Boy, say something!
Flushed Soldier: He’s dead.
Pale Soldier It’s checked out.
The Father: (Is silent a moment over the boy’s corpse, raises his eyes to the Soldiers)
Why?
Flushed Soldier: There is no why here.
You understand yourself.
We came here to make a search,
he resisted.
We tried to calm him down.
He didn’t calm down,
he cursed and hit.
All of a sudden he pulled out a knife.
There was a struggle, he fell.
In the end, he died.
The Father: This eye of his...
Flushed Soldier: There was a struggle.
The Father: The eye is outside. It’s gouged out.
Somebody stabbed him in the eye.
Flushed Soldier: Somebody stabbed him in the eye?
The Father: How can you stab a person in the eye?
Everybody knows what an eye is.
If a grain of dust gets in,
the eye can’t stand it,
and here...
Flushed Soldier: In the heat of the struggle, maybe.
The Father: How can the hand gouge out an eye?
Flushed Soldier: In the heat of the struggle, I’m telling you.
It couldn’t be foreseen.
Knives were pulled out, he fell
with the eye on a knife.
The Father: Look what you did to my boy.
Look at his face.
How could you ruin a boy such a beautiful boy.
Everybody loved him!
(Turns him over)
And here he’s stabbed in the back.
Somebody stabbed him in the back when he didn’t see.
Somebody hit him from behind and smashed his head.
There isn’t a place you didn’t hit.
Flushed Soldier: He went wild, and we’re not experienced.
The Father: You’re soldiers. There were three of you.
Three soldiers can stop a boy going wild.
Flushed Soldier: Yes, after the fact, when you think about it,
it could have been this or maybe that.
But in the reality of battle things happen.
The Father: (Again bends over the boy’s corpse)
Somebody burned his upper lip with a cigarette.
Somebody hurt him very much before he died.
The upper lip, everybody knows how much it hurts there.
Did you forget, or what?
I don’t understand it.
(Gets up and stands facing the Tanned Soldier, who begins to hum)
Tanned Soldier: A merry shit ‘mid thorns and prickles, Between your balls it twines and tickles...
The Father: (Turns his face to the Pale Soldier)
A boy. You’re only a boy, too.
Pale Soldier: Look, man, there was a mistake, but understand us,you’re right, I’m a boy too,it’s night, everybody’s groggy,the conditions aren’t right,normal men are sleeping,normal men are hugging a woman,night isn’t meant for searches.
The Father: Look how much he looks like all of you.
What you wanted—
he also wanted:
air to breathe, a little love,
that nobody should spit in his face.
Even the funny hair poking up from his eyebrow,
you’ve got one like that too.
Flushed Soldier: Go, bury him.
What’s done is done. Enough.
Don’t nudge us. He’s your boy,
but he’s dead.
You must have others,
or will have others.
The world’s full of children.
Pale Soldier: If you please, be a man.
You’re crazy with grief,
but it doesn’t work that way.
He’s dead. Dead.
The Father: Look how much he looks like you!
Tanned Soldier: (Becomes furious, grabs him by the throat)
Get him out of here and bury him!
Flushed Soldier: (Pulls the Tanned Soldier away from the The Father)
Shut up!
Tanned Soldier: (Doesn’t calm down)
You lost a son and you’re whining!
Learn to stoop!
Get him out of here and bury him!
Flushed Soldier: Shut up!
The Father: You’re got power now and all I have left is to obey.
Flushed Soldier: Yes, obey.
And when peace comes someday,
we’ll be neighbors and we’ll come visit.
We’ll meet at memorial services and things like that. Finally we’ll become friends.
(He pushes aside the Tanned Soldier, who whispers to him)
Tanned Soldier: Talk to him, while I go around him from behind.
Flushed Soldier: (Puts a hand on the The Father’s shoulder as the Tanned Soldier goes around him)
When I look in your eyes,
I can definitely identify with you.
I’m trying to imagine:
My father is standing here,
and I’m at his feet, dead.
The Father: You’re going to kill me,
but I don’t care.
Death will be a relief to me.
Flushed Soldier: We don’t kill old men,
and we don’t stick knives in backs.
(The Tanned Soldier brandishes his knife over the Father. Enter the Messenger)
Messenger: The time of murder is over.
The time of murder is over.
The furious rage has come to an end,
winds of reconciliation are blowing,
the time of murder is finished.
People look at the bad times
and ask: How could we?
How was that possible?
Our children will not understand,
our grandchildren will laugh,
our great-grandchildren will not know
what it’s about.
They will study history
with a shrug.
With a smile of waking
from a deep sleep,
people say to one another: Peace.
(Exits)
Soldiers: Peace, peace.
Tanned Soldier (Quietly)
Landed all of a sudden sooner than we thought,
grabbed us by the balls, that peace.
The Father: Peace?
You say “Peace,”
and wound my heart.
If it’s peace, why is it an hour late?
And if it’s late and my son is already dead,
what good is peace to me?
No, the word “peace” pains me.
I hear cheers, and they stab me.
I hear laughter, and I drop my face
into my hands and weep.
I lost my son.
Those aren’t just words:
“my son,” “I lost.”
That was my son,
you killed him,
how will I ever have peace?
I would like all fathers
to lose their sons,
so I wouldn’t see a smile on any lips,
and the word “joy” will vanish.
Flushed Soldier: Nevertheless, peace unto you.
(Hugs him)
You’re our brother. You’re our father.
You were our enemy, and from now on—
our brother and our father.
Tanned Soldier: (Holds out his hand)
The circumstances were different.
Everyone who judges us has to understand:
the circumstances were different.
Pale Soldier: (Stands before him without hugging him)
I’m not telling you to forgive me.
I’m not asking you to forget.
I’m not telling you anything.
(He turns away from him. The three Soldiers walk to the side)
Flushed Soldier: What’re the plans?
Tanned Soldier: Steak with all the trimmings.
Flushed Soldier: IdiotI Why do you need steak?
Two blocks away there’s a luncheonette with fresh rolls and tuna salad.
They slice up fresh vegetables for you with onion and virgin olive oil,
you sit on the balcony with fresh air, you look out over the sea...
Tanned Soldier: Something to think about. How much is it?
Flushed Soldier: Anyway, less than steak.
Tanned Soldier: Something to think about.
Flushed Soldier: And why do you need fried foods and all that anyway?
You eat a fresh tuna salad,
with fresh vegetables and virgin olive oil,
everything’s healthy, fresh air...
Tanned Soldier: Something to think about.
(The three Soldiers turn to leave)
The Father: Wait. Just a minute.
There’s one more thing you didn’t mention.
His pants are down,
and there’s a cut here that somebody started around his penis.
I won’t ask who did it, or what for.
You won’t be able to answer“in the heat of the struggle.”
That’s a cut that they started when he was already lying unconscious or dead.
I won’t ask what for.
I only want to ask what were his last words.
Flushed Soldier: We told you: he cursed when he tried to struggle.
So that’s why it happened.
The Father: But his real last words, after he was lying flat,give me his last words.
Flushed Soldier: He cursed.
The Father: And then?
Flushed Soldier: And then he died.
(To the Tanned Soldier)
No?
Tanned Soldier: Absolutely. He died.
(The Soldiers exit. The Father lies down on top of the Boy’s corpse)
The Father: You left me with the corpse.
Now the pain starts.
When the turmoil dies down,
and you’re left alone: you and the corpse.
He and you. And afterward—
you and the grave.
You and the ghost slipping away from you, but it doesn’t relent,
it demands its own, demands all of you.
And it’s right, my son,
that from now on, I’m not my own master.
You rule me from now on until the day I die.
(Enter The Officer)
The Officer: Who murdered him?
The Father: Soldiers, sir.
The Officer: And who are you?
The Father: His father.
The Officer: You saw who killed him?
The Father: No, sir. I came in
when the room was empty.
I saw them going away.
The Officer: Take the corpse and bury it
without any noise or fuss.
We won’t allow demonstrations.
The Father: Before, you didn’t allow demonstrations because of the war.
The Officer: Right. And now because of the peace.
We’re generally in favor of quiet.
The Father: Yes, sir.
My son is quiet and I am quiet.
From now on, quiet will reign here.
(Hoists the Boy’s corpse on his back and exits with it)

END OF ACT ONE