Moot Beneath the Apple Boughs
Die Geschichte
Kein Haus ist groß genug, also trägt man den Tisch hinaus unter die tropfenden Apfelzweige, mit einem Stuhl auf gleicher Höhe wie alle anderen. Darauf liegen der verkehrte Knoten, die Konvoizeiten, das gebrochene Siegel, ein gefaltetes weißes Tuch, eine Glocke und eine geschwärzte Schale. Das Dorf erfindet nichts hinzu, was das Papier nicht beweisen kann. Nella legt den Sprecherschlüssel nieder. Sie wird nicht verbannt, doch die Vorräte gehen an wechselnde Zeugen, und ihre Hände werden Brot zu denen tragen, deren Mauern gefallen sind. Dann rückt die Schale vor, ein Messer an ihrer Seite. Der Kreis segnet den Hinterhalt nicht und krönt keine Rache. Unter den Zweigen drehen sich Stiefel, und ein Pfad bricht zur östlichen Biegung auf. Toman nimmt die Beweise und folgt, mit einer Aufgabe, aber ohne Befehlsgewalt.
Das Messer, das ganz am Ende mit dem Griff voran auf den Stein gelegt wird, führt direkt in „A Knife Refused“.
Liedtext
Der Liedtext bleibt im gesungenen Englisch.Carry the table out; No house can hold us all. Set it beneath the dripping boughs, One chair level with them all. The backward knot lies dark with rain, Copied hours beside the grain; A broken seal, a folded white, One little bell without a name.
Place what is known upon the timber. Leave every missing line unfilled. Let those who carried out the ashes Set down the weight before we choose.
Leave the high chair empty. Bring every hand into the rain. No secret key, no sharpened sorrow Speaks for every door again. Take the task and name its ending; Lay the borrowed power down. Leave the high chair empty. Let no need become a crown.
A blackened bowl beside the paper, A borrowed key, a seed-cup rim; The tokens circle every answer, No two losses weigh the same; One roof held against the burning, Other roofs remain as names.
The speaker's key strikes apple timber. The store books open in the wet. The fragment proves a choice was hidden; It cannot tell us every debt.
No signer rises from the torn edge. No line names which road paid the cost. We judge the hand that ruled in secret; We will not invent the missing loss.
The key stays bare upon the table. The ledgers pass from hand to hand. No exile waits beyond the orchard; No old office keeps command. The stores remain for shared accounting, Witness changed at every door; The hands that kept one window burning Carry bread where walls are gone.
No pardon hides beneath the service; The choice stays answerable in day.
Then the blackened bowl moves forward. Steel lies quiet at its side. Beyond the eastern hedge, the scouts Have tied the inward signal twice. Crown steel guards food and healer markings; No clean target can be named.
The circle will not bless the ambush. The circle will not crown revenge. Boots turn hard beneath the branches; One path breaks toward the eastern bend.
No throne for law. No throne for shelter. No throne for grief that orders all. Name the burden. Name the witness. Name the hour the power falls.
Take the list and take the white cloth. Take the bell and backward reed. Carry only what was answered; Claim no rank beyond the need. Reach the cut; set guarded names in sight. The task ends where the truth is carried; No command leaves with the task.
Leave the high chair empty. Every hand remains in rain. The key lies down, the bowl bears witness; Neither rules each door again. Take the task and name its ending; Give the borrowed power down. Leave the high chair empty. Let no need become a crown.
One set of footsteps takes the east road. One takes the older path unseen. The apple knock becomes a road pulse; The speaker's key stays in the rain.