I believe. Be off. I believe.

Just very happily be off.

Hunter:

That she drove me to this misdeed

with fiery kisses isn’t true.

The fairy tale lies, which thus speaks.

Snow White:

How could it be true since you say

it’s not. Be off, I believe.

Hunter:

That she hates you like a snake,

desirous of your sweet beauty

is a lie. She’s a beauty too,

like a resplendent summer tree.

Behold her and call her lovely.

Snow White:

Lovely, O how lovely. Spring’s lush

splendor is hardly so gorgeous.

She surpasses in grandeur

an image of polished marble

when sculpted by a true artist.

She is sweet like a gentle dream.

The fancy of a fevered brow

could not form such a fairy scene.

And how can she be so jealous

of me who stands like the winter

at her side, so frosty and cold?

I don’t believe it. How could she?

Go on then, you see, in this case,

I am of the same mind as you.

Hunter:

Beauty hates not beauty as much

as a fairy tale has spread here.

Snow White:

No, she’s surely lovely herself.—

So why hate this sister image,

one who is begging at her feet

and asks that, in the same shadow,

it might exist in her imminence?

Hunter:

That I wanted to kill you is

an endless childish fantasy.

I never had the heart for it.

From the very start I was touched

by this sad, sweet, childlike pleading

spoken by both your mouth and eyes.

I lowered my dagger and arm,

lifted you up, my sweet, to me.

The deer, which had leapt in our way,

I stabbed myself. Isn’t that so?

Snow White:

I hardly see it worth the time

to bear out this story. Why, yes,

of course. So it was. Yes, indeed.

Hunter:

The Queen never dispatched poison

intended for you to your dwarfs.

The poison apple isn’t true.

The lie that says so is poison.

She herself who makes such claim has

ripened like a beautiful fruit,

tempting, full of flattering splendor,

but inside it would sicken who

is bold enough to taste it.

Snow White:

It’s a lie, black and fantastic,

repugnant to hear, for scaring

children with. Be gone with this lie.

Are you kidding? I beg of you,

wring another stupid lie’s neck

that just tries to be so clever.

Why is the Queen so quiet?

Hunter:

She contemplates vain misery.

She thinks of the mistake that plunged

you both in flames of vicious strife.

She weeps for so much confusion.

If I may ask, Snow White, kiss her,

something that would express some love.

Snow White (kisses her):

Then permit me this sweet token.

See how pale you are! Forgive me

if I take your pallor’s life with

these kisses. See, they sponge it up,

every bit of this tragic hue

that would so disfigure your bliss.