VOICES FROM THE KILLING JAR

by Kate Soper

Texts and Translations

I. PRELUDE: MAY KASAHARA

way down inside there's a —

tiny and hard as —

inside of each living—

all the way down into—

deep down and biding its—

waiting for the chance to—

in darkness, feeding on—

clawing its way out from the—

through the window

over the lawn

time moves back and forth.

A is B.

growing faster than—

tearing the life from—

devouring from in—

breaks your body into—

believe me capable of—

push you all the way down—

if just to show a living—

your life in the palm of my—

- Text by Kate Soper, inspired by The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

II. ISABEL ARCHER: MY LAST DUCHESS

She had had the best of everything, and had never known anything particularly unpleasant. She had a fixed determination to see the world as a place of brightness, of free expansion, of irresistible action. She had an infinite hope that she would never do anything wrong.She had done her best to be just and temperate, to see only the truth. She had taken all the first steps in the purest confidence, and then, she had suddenly found life to be a dark, narrow alley, with a dead wall at the end. A sense of darkness and suffocation took possession of her. The shadows had begun to gather. With incredulous terror she had taken the measure of her dwelling. It was the house of darkness, the house of dimness, the house of suffocation. Between these four walls she had lived ever since. They were to surround her for the rest of her life.

-Text by Henry James, from The Portrait of a Lady

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive.

Will it please you sit and look at her?

'twas not

Her husband's presence only, called that spot

Of joy into the Duchess' cheek.

She had a heart....too soon made glad.

She liked whatever she looked on,

And her looks went everywhere.

Who'd stoop to blame

this sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech...to make your will

Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this

Or that in you disgusts me;"

Even then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop.

....She smiled, no doubt,

Whenever I passed her; but who passed without

Much the same smile?

This grew; I gave commands;

Then all smiles stopped.

...There she stands

As if alive. Will't please you rise?

- Text by Robert Browning, from “My Last Duchess”

III. PALILALIA: IPHIGENIA

Lady of Arrows

Give me the quiver

Bring in the quarry

Goddess of Beasts

When the horizon

Echoes with fire

Twin of Apollo

Teach me the hunt

Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia!

Iphigenia

Girl of Tears

Bled like a yearling

Fed to the winds

Down to the ferry

I send your assassin

Rush him with mercy

To kill him again

Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia!

House of Atreus

I wait for ruin

Plotting the trial

Rigging my nets

Soon, Agamemnon

An act meets an action

A Daughter of Leda

Strikes for the dead

Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia! Iphigenia!

- Text by Kate Soper, inspired by Agamemnon by Aeschylus

IV. MIDNIGHT’S TOLLING: LUCILE DUPLESSIS

From the journal of Lucile Duplessis, 1788, Saturday July 26. Dear Diary: I think I'm losing it. I don't understand myself. I don't know why I think, I don't know why I speak – I don't know what winds me up. The truth is, I am nothing but a machine. I can't say what I am. I can't even understand what I am. Ah – I'd rather be dead than living in this black hole! I have no desires. My one wish is that I'd never been born. What I would have done in her place. If destiny had placed me on the throne, if it was I who was Queen, I would not have waited for the mob to come and snatch me from my palace. My death would have been felt by the entire universe! Three days before my death, I would communicate to the people my intentions. At the back of a courtyard, before a vast, burning, pyre, I would raise an altar. For the first two days I would kneel at the foot of this altar, praying to the Great Master of the Universe! On the third day, I would meet my death. This ceremony would take place by the light of torches, at midnight. Midnight's tolling. It's so quiet! The whole world’s asleep. What's happening out in the world tonight? Is there anyone out there thinking of me? I wish it were storming. How I'd love to hear thunder. My heart is full of rage! May my tears flow and drown this misery, or else let them consume me! May my memory perish! Burn me to ash and let the winds disperse them over the earth. May my memory perish! May my memory perish! May my memory perish!

- Text by Lucile Duplessis, trans. Soper

VI. INTERLUDE: ASTA SOLILJA

It is I. It is I. It is I.

- Text by Haldor Laxness, from Independent People

VII. THE OWL AND THE WREN: LADY MACDUFF

At daylight's end, a mother wren,

In times corrupt and foul,

With chicks alone, in her poor home,

Is spotted by an owl.

“Good Owl,” says she, “do pity me,

And spare this little nest.”

He heeds her not, he gives no thought

To her defenselessness.

“Sir Owl,” she cries, “you’ll be despised,

For I have done no wrong!”

But he knows all the blameless fall,

While murderers live on.

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lullaby

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla lulla lullaby.

The Dane of Fife, he had a wife,

And many pretty babes:

He fled their nest, and they, bereft,

Were by his fear betrayed.

The Owl is fed, his claws are red,

The ones that you adored –

Their eyes are shut, their throats are cut,

You'll hear them sing no more.

Oh God, say why he fled my side

And left me to this fate?

They come anon, with daggers drawn,

They come, and we await.

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lullaby

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla lulla lullaby.

- Text by Kate Soper, inspired by Macbeth by William Shakespeare

VIII. HER VOICE IS FULL OF MONEY: DAISY BUCHANAN

Listen.

I'm p-paralyzed with happiness!

I looked outdoors...it's very romantic outdoors.

There's a bird on the lawn – a nightingale –

it's romantic, isn't is, Tom?

You see

I think everything's terrible.

I know – I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.

Sophisticated – God.

Are you in love with me?

These things excite me so...

If you want to kiss me...let me know.

Mention my name...

I'm giving out cards...

I'm having a marvelous time.

I'm glad, Jay.

I'm glad...

- Text by F. Scott Fitzgerald, from The Great Gatsby

One night

One night five years before

They turned towards each other.

He knew that when he kissed this girl

His mind never again would be the mind of God.

His heat beat faster – faster

He waited...so he waited

Listened a moment longer – he waited

Then he kissed her.

- Text adapted from The Great Gatsby

Her voice is full of money.

- Text by F. Scott Fitzgerald (ibid.)