They have made me look like a boy.

Second Page:

Mine tingles. It snags. It itches.

It’s an unnameable feeling.

It kisses my entire body.

First Page:

As I pulled them on over me,

a fire blasted me in the face.

I wear them now, but I don’t know

how I will ever keep them on.

Third Page:

I feel like doing what boys will do.

I want to jump, to laugh, to twirl

my arms and my legs to and fro

and yet I can’t. Like a sin they

are squeezing my fair young body,

they are causing me to grow stiff.

First Page:

But not even for a kingdom

would I not love to feel such fear.

To me they hurt so well and so

pleasurably at the same time.

Second Page:

When the heavens and the earth lay

one atop the other, they’d feel

half so tightly pressed together

compared to this attire and me.

First Page:

Girls, the Prince calls.

Prince:

What do you want? Why are you here?

First Page:

To grace the scene the way your dream

and the fairy tale desire it.

For decoration we have draped

the gallery in precious cloth.

Now we’ll spray perfume everywhere

to fill the room with its scent.

Now we’ll light the candelabra

and make the night as bright as day.

If you still have further orders,

tell us.

Second Page:

Shall we assemble the people

to applaud this celebration?

Prince:

No, it’s not that kind of party,

not what you think, needing people,

one that is framed by their shouting.

We’ll have a party with ourselves,

a totally silent party,

where the public voice gets nothing

to trumpet and the world nothing

to concern itself. Heedlessness

celebrates here, a festive mood

filling our hearts, without worry.

Nor would we make much of a crowd

for any bothersome fellow,

since we would have no need of pomp

or vain splendor, which here never

has to see to our happiness.

I feel such silent happiness,

such a sweet and holy feeling,

that to think about a party

feels reprehensible to me.

I already felt festive here,

even before you brought candles

to light the feast. An anxious joy,

who’s half ashamed and half happy,

who’s an untold bundle of nerves,

who doubts in her success, she is

the party-giver here.

Third Page:

Just this slender column’s to do,

my lord, spinning me like a bride.

Prince:

Now do me this favor and leave.

For your service, accept my thanks.

First Page:

These are well-bred pages, taking

leave when there is no longer need.

Second Page:

Come away. This Prince’s page is

only a dream.

The pages exit.

Prince:

I conduct myself in a dream

so much now, I can handily

submit to a foreign power.

Is what I see before my eyes

my possession? Am I indeed

not set up as though in a game?

Haven’t I sat here long enough,

while nothing will move me forward?