Potential Translations of the Ring:
Version 1:
Die Walküre (The Valkyrie)
Dramatis Personae
- Siegmund (a mortal, son of Wotan by a mortal woman)
- Sieglinde (Siegmund’s twin sister)
- Hunding (Sieglinde’s husband)
- Wotan (chief of the gods)
- Fricka (Wotan’s wife, goddess of marriage)
- Brünnhilde (a Valkyrie, daughter of Wotan and Erda)
- Valkyries (Brünnhilde’s sisters: Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Waltraute, Schwertleite, Helmwige, Siegrune, Grimgerde, Rossweisse)
ACT I
Scene 1
A large room in Hunding’s dwelling: the interior of a rustic house built around a huge ash tree whose trunk stands in the middle, supporting the roof. It is night; a storm rages outside. The door in the rear has been flung open by the wind. Siegmund stumbles in, exhausted and wounded.
Siegmund (entering, half-collapsing):
I’m stumbling in from a cruel chase…
My strength is gone.
Where can I find shelter?
This house stands open.
(Falls onto a fur-covered bench by the hearth)
The storm hunts me no longer here…
My heart, calm down—
rest now, battered traveler.
(He rests, eyes closed. The storm continues to rage outside. After a moment, Sieglinde appears from an inner doorway. She notices Siegmund, startled but also concerned.)
Sieglinde (softly):
A stranger lies there,
struggling with his breath!
Worn from exhaustion,
wounded—surely on the brink.
(Approaches carefully)
Let me see if he yet lives.
(She leans closer, studying him)
Though his eyes are shut, his chest still rises and falls.
He’s breathing—he clings to life.
(Siegmund slowly lifts his head, sensing someone near.)
Siegmund (faintly):
Water… water, if you have it…
Sieglinde:
Stay still—I’ll bring you a drink.
(She quickly fetches a horn of water and kneels by him)
Here, quench your thirst and gather your spirit.
Siegmund (drinking, then breathing deeply):
Your kindness heals me.
Thank you, gracious woman.
Sieglinde (taking back the horn):
Misery must have hounded you here.
Who harmed you so?
Siegmund (attempting to rise):
Misfortune follows me wherever I wander.
I bring trouble to any who shelter me.
I should leave you so no harm befalls you too.
Sieglinde (firmly):
You can’t stir from this house
until you’re stronger.
I’ll tend your wounds, poor traveler.
Rest here, safe by the hearth.
Siegmund (managing a slight smile):
Your voice is calm, your eyes are kind—
I can only trust you.
(He takes a breath, relaxes)
The storm outside might still rage,
but I’ve found shelter in your gaze.
Sieglinde (standing):
Wait here—I’ll bring you something to refresh you.
(Hurries out through the inner door)
(Siegmund, recovering, glances around the space. He notices the sturdy ash trunk at the center, the rustic walls, the dim glow of the hearth. Outside, thunder rolls faintly as the storm dies down.)
Siegmund (to himself):
Whose home have I stumbled into?
Fate leads me on a winding path—
my enemies were closing in,
and I had no fight left.
Yet I found an open door,
and within, a caring soul.
If only I could leave this curse behind me—
the curse that dooms every bond I make.
(He winces, recalling his flight. There’s a brief hush, then Sieglinde returns with a cup of mead or wine.)
Sieglinde (handing it to him):
Drink this—
let it bring warmth to your soul.
Siegmund (drinks gratefully):
Deep thanks, woman.
My sorrow lessens with each kind deed you show me.
(He looks at her more intently now, noticing her pallor and hidden sadness.)
Siegmund (softly):
But you—your eyes are burdened…
Are you not also trapped in pain?
Sieglinde (startled):
What do you mean?
Siegmund:
I see a wounded spirit behind your gentle gaze.
A torment unlike mine, yet still akin.
Sieglinde (looking away):
You read me too well, stranger.
There is sorrow here…
(A distant sound of a horn is heard offstage—she tenses)
My husband will soon return…
(Quietly) He has a heavy hand.
Your presence in his house may anger him.
Siegmund (resigned):
Then I’ll leave before he comes,
for I’d rather not bring conflict to you.
Sieglinde (decisive):
No—stay.
Whatever my husband’s wrath,
I stand firm:
you’ve taken refuge in our hall,
and sacred custom protects our guest.
No one can harm you under this roof
while I draw breath.
(They exchange a look of mutual sympathy and a growing sense of shared fate.)
VERSION 2
ACT I
Scene 1
(A storm rages outside. A large tree grows through the center of the timbered hall. A single door stands at the back. Siegmund pushes the door open and staggers in, exhausted.)
SIEGMUND
The storm-winds chase me on every side;
My strength has fled, there’s no place to hide.
No friend, no fortress to shield my fears—
I beg for rest in a stranger’s sphere.
(He collapses by the hearth.)
SIEGLINDE (entering anxiously)
Ah! Who can this be, brought low by woe?
His breath is faint, his eyes sink low.
A stranger’s face, yet sorrow I see—
Let pity guide me: come, rest with me.
(She fetches water, kneels beside him, and offers him a drink.)
SIEGMUND
Kind hand that eases a haunted soul,
Your gift revives me, renders me whole.
My name? I hide it from friend and foe,
For grief and shame by that name might grow.
SIEGLINDE
No name is needed for mercy’s art—
A wounded wanderer speaks to my heart.
Drink deeper still, let this house impart
The welcome denied by a cruel night’s dart.
SIEGMUND (drinking deeply)
The water’s healing, your gaze so warm—
Yet fate still hunts me with tireless storm.
My limbs may tremble, but life’s not done:
I stand revived by the grace you’ve shown.
SIEGLINDE
Take comfort here, in the old oak’s shade;
My hearth’s no prison, do not be afraid.
Though storms may rage on every side,
Within these walls let your cares subside.
SIEGMUND (rises slowly, looking around)
The hush of this hall is strangely bright—
A hidden glow in the gloom of night.
I see your face, your gentle grace,
And wonder what sorrow might haunt this place.
SIEGLINDE (with a sudden distant look)
The gloom runs deeper than lightning’s gleam;
Locked in silence, I live in a dream.
A forced betrothal, a loveless vow—
This house is Hunding’s, though empty now.
(She looks away, as though fearing she’s said too much.)
SIEGMUND
Hunding—your husband? Then whose are you,
Your eyes so lonely, your spirit so true?
SIEGLINDE
I bear his name, not born by choice;
He rules my days with a heavy voice.
Yet I, who kneel to his hardened pride,
Feel solace’s spark when you’re by my side.
(A sudden gust of wind rattles the door; thunder rumbles outside.)
SIEGMUND
Unkind the storm, unkind the blade
That hunts me still—my life it craves.
But here, a moment’s sweet reprieve—
Your gentle voice bids me believe.
SIEGLINDE
Then stay, poor wanderer; bide a while,
My door stands open where strangers smile.
Though darkness thickens, your eyes I trust—
No harm shall touch you, safe in my trust.
(They share a moment of silent empathy. The storm continues to rage as the scene shifts, preparing for Hunding’s entrance in the next scene.)
Version 3
DIE WALKÜRE
ACT I
Scene 1
(A large room in Hunding’s dwelling. In the center, a mighty ash-tree trunk rises through the roof. A hearth near it. At rear, an entrance door; at the right, a side door leading further inside. It is dusk; the fire on the hearth is low. As the curtain rises, Siegmund opens the outer door. He looks exhausted and wounded. He enters, sees no one, then closes the door behind him and staggers to the hearth.)
Siegmund
Who owns this hearth?
Here must I rest.
Fleeing, I found
No friend’s open door;
The storm that chased
Me, wearied and sore,
Has driven me deep
Into strangers’ care.
Deadly my fate,
Death follows my trail:
I’ll face what danger
Dwells in this hall.
(He collapses by the fire)
No spark from the embers…
Cold gloom for my bed…
Yet the heart that hunts me
Burns hotter instead.
(He leans against the hearth and slowly recovers his breath. Suddenly he hears a door within open; Sieglinde appears, quietly, and notices the stranger in the dim light.)
Sieglinde
A stranger lies there,
Stretched at our fire!
Weapons and wounds—
He wavers in pain.
(Softly approaching)
What sorrow is yours?
Share with me here:
Drink from our water,
Ease off your fear.
(She brings him water.)
Siegmund
Your kindness pours
Like cooling rain:
My wounds you would wash,
My woe you would tame.
(He drinks)
So fresh is your gift,
So kind is your gaze,
Like a moonbeam you stand
Where darkness stays.
Sieglinde
Though bitter at times
Grows the drink in this place,
No stranger shall thirst
Or die in disgrace.
Siegmund (restoring the cup)
Refreshed I am,
Relieved of ill.
Your eyes, your voice—
They grant me still
Comfort unspoken,
A calm so rare;
A stranger am I,
Yet you show me care.
Sieglinde
Fear not the master
Who’s soon returning;
But rest while you can,
Your wounds are burning.
(Examining him more closely)
Your brow is bloody—
A blow from a sword?
Siegmund
Spears and swords
Have all grown my foe.
Foes ringed me around—
I fled from their blow.
Sieglinde
Then stay you here,
I shall tend to your pain:
You shall not fall
To your huntsmen again.
Siegmund
In truth, if harm
Awaits me in hide,
Misfortune has never
Failed to be my bride.
But your voice, so gentle,
Has guided me home:
If rest is my fortune,
No farther I’ll roam.
