JANACEK

THE CUNNING LITTLE VIXEN

The vixen urges the hens to stand up for their rights:

VIXEN:

Sisters, sisters! Why let him feed you garbage?

Helpless hens in a harem.

Who does the labor? Who gets the profit?

Stand up to him! Agitate!

Too long you’ve suffered oppression.

Demand freedom now!

Come the revolution, cry

Down with roosters! Down with tyrants!

HENS: (aghast)

No more roosters? No more roosters?

VIXEN:

Why do you put up with him?

Shoving you aside, he gorges on grain,

And only when he has stuffed himself

He offers you a bite.

COCK: (with rising anger)

Don’t be taken in!

Trumpeting rights and equality

She’s out to destroy the family.

HENS:

Clearly! Clearly! Clearly!

VIXEN:

I refuse to tolerate

Spineless reactionaries!

I’ll dig a hole and die in it --

Goodby!

The forester reminds the parson of his youth, long gone:

FORESTER:

Though in dusty Latin now you run for cover,

You must have been a lover once.

Way back from yesterday --

Sweet time of plenty! --

Spry as bees and birds at play,

You, too, were twenty.

However hard we pray,

Spring soon is over.

Bones ache and teeth decay;

Arteries harden.

Comes winter, cold and gray;

Bare is the garden.

Lovers grow old and pass by as strangers.

The parson bitterly recalls his unfortunate attempt to help out Terynka, the treacherous gypsy girl:

PARSON:

“Trust and follow the path of virtue.”

Hogwash! Some classical author probably.

Nevermind! Whoever said it was mistaken.

That lesson I paid for dearly.

To me they entrusted homeless Terynka.

For her I opened doors of enlightenment,

Made her a Christian.

Pastor and pupil, daily we prayed together.

Those warm, glowing eyes!

Pools of fervor and piety!

Deep as the sea itself.

Down in that darkness lurked

Devils of every known variety.

Pregnant, though of course unmarried --

Who the father might have been

She would not or could not say.

Rumor was rampant, all pointed in my direction.

I had to face an angry mob

Shouting obscenities --

She allowed it to happen.

Thus rewarded

For a life of pious dedication!

“Memnestho aner agathos einai.”

I quote from Xenophon,

I believe verbatim.

Much impressed by the handsome fox, the vixen tells him her story:

VIXEN:

Family member,

Nurtured and educated.

I got to know -- people!

And by and large felt ashamed of them.

Pitiful!

True, the Forester was kind and friendly,

And often affectionate.

But I found his wife impossible!

And jealous to the max.

She scolded him incessantly.

Even when not around,

She’d call in her children

To pester and pick on me.

Once when I bravely tried to fight back,

She shouted:

“Just wait! Some day I’ll skin you,

Turn you into a nice fur muff.!”

Once half dead with hunger,

I stole some chickens.

Both with stick in hand came running,

Cursing and swearing.

Unbowed, I held my ground,

I cried: “Why, why be so stingy?

You have more than enough,

And I, nothing at all.

I’m too proud for begging;

What does that leave but taking?

Strike! Punish! Strike! Punish!

But then beware!

I’ll get back at you!”

War was on!

Action followed.

Too eager, too hasty, they were thrown off balance.

The coast was clear.

I ran to the forest.

Dank and dark as the deep dead of night,

Yet there I slept serenely.

Equally charmed, the fox woos the vixen:

FOX:

Understand,

I am unlike other young foxes.

For me it is not the body but the soul,

Your soul that I adore.

Take my word:

Unlike your average fellow

Who would charm, then abandon you,

My love is true, forever and ever.

Why this hesitation?

Come and sit closer to me.

Trust me! Trust me!

Weep only tears of happiness.

Answer! Answer!

VIXEN:

Yes! Yes!

The little foxcubs that eventually follow play a singing game:

FOXCUBS:

Little fox from London town

With potatoes loaded down.

Little fox, oh guard your sack

From the badger at your back.

Little fox from Africa

Carries pepper, paprika.

Little fox, watch out! Beware

Of the hedgehog and the hare.

The forester returns to his beloved forest, some years later:

FORESTER:

Armies of mushrooms!

Tiny soldiers in uniform,

Wearing hats chestnut colored,

Trim as country girls.

Is it real or am I dreaming?

My fantastic forest!

The same familiar trees

As when we first came exploring together,

She so impertinent,

And I so in love!

We, too, went mushroom gathering,

Probing deep into the murky forest,

Often back with empty hands,

Too much in love to notice;

Coming back instead

With an overflow of treasured kisses.

Wedding bells that day were ringing!

We were young, and wedding bells were ringing!

He sits down, his gun resting on his knees.

These pesky flies!

Without them, I’d be dozing in no time.

Yet I feel at home

Here at dusk when the forest starts coming alive.

A forest forever youthful,

Each round of the sun a new beginning.

Forest imps and fairies

Soon will return for a springtime

Of glorious revels and rapture.

Starting all over,

Back to undertake new miracles,

Once more they will scatter dew and sunlight

That turn into blossoms:

Honeysuckle, phlox and marigold.

Children and parents, other folk passing by,

Will stop to gaze in awe and wonder,

And may recognize

God’s own heaven , right here!