morte dun viaxante

REQUIEM

CHARLEY: It’s getting dark, Linda. (Linda doesn’t react. She stares at the grave)

BIFF: How about it, Mom? Better get some rest, heh? They’ll be closing the gate soon. (Linda makes no move. Pause.)

HAPPY : (deeply angered) He had no right to do that. There was no necessity for it. We would’ve helped him.

CHARLEY : (grunting) Hmmm

BIFF: Come along, Mom

LINDA: Why didn’t anybody come?

CHARLEY: It was a very nice funeral

LINDA: But where are all the people he knew? Maybe they blame him.

CHARLEY: Naa. It’s a rough world, Linda. They wouldn’t blame him.

LINDA: I can’t understand it. At this time especially. First time in thirty-five years we were just about free and clear. He only needed a little salary. He was even finished with the dentist.

HARLEY: No man only needs a little salary.

LINDA: I can’t understand it

BIFF: There were a lot of nice days. When he’d come home from a trip; or on Sundays, making the stoop; finishing the cellar; putting on the new porch; when he built the extra bathroom; and put up the garage. You know something, Charley, there’s more of him in that front stoop than in all the sales he ever made.

CHARLEY: Yeah. He was a happy man with a batch of cement.

LINDA: He was so wonderful with his hands.

BIFF: He had the wrong dreams. All, all, wrong.

HAPPY : (almost ready to fight Biff) Don’t say that!

BIFF: He never knew who he was.

CHARLEY: (stopping Happy’s movement and reply. To Biff) No- body dast blame this man. You don’t understand: Willy was a salesman. And for a salesman, there is no rock bottom to the life. He don’t put a bolt to a nut, he don’t tell you the law or give you medicine. He’s man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a Shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back — that’s an earthquake. And then you get yourself a couple of spots on your hat, and you’re finished. Nobody dast blame this man. A salesman is got to dream, boy. It comes with the territory.

BIFF: Charley, the man didn’t know who he was.

HAPPY: (infuriated) Don’t say that!

BIFF: Why don’t you come with me, Happy?

HAPPY: I’m not licked that easily. I’m staying right in this city, and I’m gonna beat this racket! (He looks at Biff, his chin set) The Loman Brothers!

BIFF: I know who I am, kid.

HAPPY: All right, boy. I’m gonna show you and everybody else that Willy Loman did not die in vain. He had a good dream. It’s the only dream you can have — to come out number-one man. He fought it out here, and this is where I’m gonna win it for him.

BIFF: (Let’s go, Mom. with a hopeless glance at Happy, bends toward his mother)

LINDA: I’ll be with you in a minute. Go on, Charley. (He hesitates) I want to, just for a minute. I never had a chance to say good-by. (Charley moves away, followed by Happy. Biff remains a slight distance up and left of Linda. She sits there, summoning herself. The flute begins, not far away, playing behind her speech.)

LINDA: Forgive me, dear. I can’t cry. I don’t know what it is, I can’t cry. I don’t understand it. Why did you ever do that? Help me Willy, I can’t cry. It seems to me that you’re just on another trip. I keep expecting you. Willy, dear, I can’t cry. Why did you do it? I search and search and I search, and I can’t understand it, Willy. I made the last payment on the house today. Today, dear. And there’ll be nobody home. (A sob rises in her throat) We’re free and clear. (Sobbing more fully, released) We’re free. (Biff comes slowly toward her) We’re free... We’re free... (Biff lifts her to her feet and moves out up right with her in his arms. Linda sobs quietly. Bernard and Charley come together and follow them, followed by Happy. Only the music of the flute is left on the darkening stage as over the house the hard towers of the apartment buildings rise into sharp focus, and the curtain falls.)

Death of a salesman

Arthur Miller

publicado orixinalmente en Nova York, 1949

traducido ao galego por María Xosé Noia Ansede e publicado como

Morte dun viaxante

Vigo, Edicións Xerais de Galcia, 2002

RÉQUIEM

Charlie: Está escurecendo, Linda. Linda non reacciona. Comtempla a tumba.

Happy: (Profundamente enfadado)Non tiña dereito a facelo.Non había necesidad de facelo. Nós teriámolo axudado.

Charlie: (Rosmando) Hmmm.

Biff: Ven, mama.

Linda: Por que non veu ninguén?

Charlie: Foi un enterro moi bonito.

Linda: Pero onde esta a xente que coñecía? Ao mellor botáronllo en cara.

Charlie: Non. E un mundo duro, Linda. Non llo votarían en cara.

Linda: Non podo entendelo. Especialmente nesta ocasión. A primeira vez en 35 anos que estabamos libres de deudas. Só necesitaba un pequeno salario. Ata rematara co dentista.

Charley: Ningún home necesita soamente un pequeno salario.

Linda: Non podo entendelo.

Biff: Houbo moitos días fermosos. Cando volvía dunha viaxe; ou os domingos, remantando o soto; montando o pórtico novo; cando construiu un baño extra; o garaxe. Sabes que, Charley? Hay máis del nese pórtico ca en todas as vendas que fixo na súa vida.

Charlie: Sí. Cun caldeiro de cemento era un home feliz.

Linda: Era tan bo para traballar coas mans.

Biff: Tiña os soños equivocados. Todo, todo, falso.

Happy: (case preparado para baterlle a Biff) Non digas iso!

Charlie: (detendo o movemento de Happy a Biff) Ninguén pode culpar a ese home. Non o entendes; Willy era un viaxante. E para un viaxante a vida non ten fondo. Non encaixa unha rosca nun parafuso. Non te fai actuar conforme á lei, non che receita unha medicina. É un home só aí fóra, cabalgando sobre o seu sorriso e o brillo dos seus zapatos. E cando empezan a deixar de sorrir de volta... sobréven ao terremoto. E entón aparecen un par de manchas no teu sombrairo, e estás acabado. Ninguén pode culpar a este home. Un viaxante ten que soñar, rapaz. Son cousas do oficio.

Biff: Charley, o home non sabía quen era.

Happy: (Alporizado) Non digas iso!

Biff: ¿Por que non vés comigo, Happy?

Happy: Eu non me dou por vencido con tanta facilidade. Vou quedar nesta cidade, e vou xogar este partido! (Olla para Biff con determinación) Os irmáns Loman!

Biff: Eu sei que son.

Happy: Vale, rapaz. Eu vouche demostrar, a ti e a todos os demais, que Willy Loman non morreu en van. Tiña un bo soño. É o único soño que podes ter... para ser o mellor. Loitou por el aí fóra. E eu vou gañar aí fóra por el.

Biff: (Dirixe unha mirada de desesperanza a Happy, inclínase sobre a súa nai) Vamos, mamá.

Linda: Estarei convosco nun minuto. Marcha, Charlie. (El dubida) Quero quedar soa un momento. Non tiven a oportunidade de lle dicir adeus. Charlie marcha, seguido por Happy. Biff permanece un pouco distanciado á esquerda de Linda. Ela senta, recolléndose. Comeza a soar a frauta, non moi lonxe, como fondo das súas palabras.

Linda: Perdóame, cariño. Non podo chorar. Non sei por que, pero non podo chorar. Non o entendo. ¿Por que o fixeches? Busco, busco e busco, e non podo entendelo, Willy. Hoxe paguei o derradeiro prazo da casa. (Un salouco entrecórtalle a voz) Estamos libres de débedas. (Saloucando con máis forza, aliviada) Somos libres. (Biff vai lentamente cara a ela) Somos libres... Somos libres... Biff érguea e lévaa entre os seus brazos á dereita. Linda salouca quedamente. Bernard e Charlie veñen xuntos e van detrás deles, seguidos por Happy. Só queda a música da frauta no escenario ás escuras mentres, sobre casa, se alzan, nítidas, as duras torres de apartamentos.

PANO