All language subtitles for Memories.Of.The.Wind.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

January 1943, Istanbul

I don't know why, but I'm worried.

I guess it's due to all the unrest
in the country.

Why not postpone the next issue
for a while?

Just until things calm down.

We could go spend some time
at my aunt's on the island.

It'll be fine, don't worry.

Come on, you're late already.

- I'll go to the island tonight.
- Fine.

We'll talk tomorrow.

Be careful.

Spring, issue No 6

Why should the wealth tax
target only non-Muslims?

- Good morning.
- Morning, Aram.

One 'Tan' and one 'Cumhuriyet' please.

- Hasan.
- Yes, Aram?

- Could you bring a coffee to my office?
- Sure.

- Hasan.
- Yes?

- Two cups of tea.
- Right away.

Wealth tax
32 convicts sent to Ashkale labor camp

Communists back to Moscow!

Aram, quick!

They're after you.

Mehmet!

Go block the way to the upper floors.

The printing house is upstairs, come!

Bring this press down!

Go up on the roof, you can reach
the back street from there.

Fehim, Rasih is on his way here.

I'll warn him, off you go!

Find that communist bastard!

Great job! You're doing great!

They were like mad dogs.

They tore the whole place apart.

Among the crowd, in the back...

I recognised two men
provoking the mob.

They were members
of the National Security.

It's obvious they wanted
to kill two birds with one stone.

What are we going to do now?

I need to talk to our comrades.
I can't act on my own.

I arranged a boat
from Karaköy for you.

Go straight to Leyla's in the island.
Don't ever think of going to your place.

But I left
some unfinished translations there.

Aram, the situation is serious.

They could very well have killed
both of us today.

You publish an Armenian-Turkish review,
together with Rasih to top it all!

And you state that the government
is collaborating with the Nazis!

We all know
he is in the Communist Party.

We're fooling ourselves, Leyla.

They could have invented
another excuse.

The problem here
is beyond the review we're issuing.

What will happen now?

I can't stay here much longer.

Rasih will find a place
for me to lay low.

This is the best thing
that I can do.

February 1943, Istanbul

Dear listeners, this is Radio Ankara.
It's February 28th, 1943.

We start this evening's bulletin

with today's international
and national news.

In accordance with
the recently adopted wealth tax law,

citizens guilty of tax infringement

are being sent
to compulsory labor facilities

in Erzurum, Ashkale and Eskishehir.

17 Jewish suspects are apprehended

while attempting to flee to Syria
through Gaziantep.

According to statements by the National
Security Office, those culprits...

'A pine tree...

standing alone on a hill.

Caught in the winter sleep...

What is this?

Please help!

Where are you taking my father?

What are you doing?

Please help us!

Open up. It's me, Rasih.

What news?

The news isn't good.

Those labor camps are worrying us.

Take a look at this.

Debtors who failed to pay the tax

100,000!

For that tiny printing house!

We'd get only 10,000 if we sold it.

That's it, Aram.

Collecting tax money
is not their real concern.

They put your name in the wanted list
as you didn't pay the tax.

So?

What do I need to do?

Staying in Istanbul
is too dangerous now.

I've been thinking about it.
Maybe a small town in Anatolia...

Forget about it!

You're the black sheep of this society.
People will recognize you anywhere.

Look. Our friends trust a man
who lives next to the border of Georgia.

He crossed the border
frequently before the war.

He ran a bakery in Sochi
a few years ago. We'll send you to him.

As soon as I make arrangements
with the Russians, I'll come for you.

We have no other choice, Aram.

The world is caught in delirium.

People's admiration for Hitler
has gone past a mere mustache trend.

The war consumed not only the people,
but the words as well.

My shattered life
is so worthless amid this world,

turned to a pit of death
burying all human values.

There's no house left.

My destiny is to fly away
like a prisoner.

What sort of a life can bind me?
To which land?

Gates to the sea, the forest or towns
are no longer to be found.

There's no escape left.

There's nothing left.

You're looking good.

This war will eventually
come to an end.

Aram!

Nothing.

Late May 1943, Eastern Black Sea

Do you know any sheep merchants
in Ardahan?

There's no sheep left.
But there are goats if you want.

Rasih sends his greetings.

God bless him.

- I'm Ahmet.
- Mikahil.

No, we don't eat this with a spoon.

Dip your bread in it.

Germany: A Winter's Tale
by Heinrich Heine

I could finally have some rest
after this long journey at sea.

How exhausted I was!

I felt Mikahil shaking me up
and opened my eyes.

Eyes, black as a cave, staring at me.

He said 'Breakfast time',
I went downstairs.

When Mikahil said 'Meryem,
give us some milk', I learned her name.

For some reason, she reminded me
of those birds they lock up in cages.

Maybe I'm not the only one feeling
imprisoned up here in these mountains.

Is my presence disturbing her?

'A stranger in the house.

Who is he? Where is he from?

Why is he here?

What trouble will he cause us?'

I think she is this man's daughter.

But then where is her mother?

Judging from the grave in the garden,
I guess she died a few years ago.

The smell of spring
is incredible outside.

I opened the wooden window.

The wind caressed my face,

and I thought of you.

I remembered this poem
by my friend Rıfat Ilgaz:

'I will hide in all sorts of places

Close your eyes, my child,

close your eyes.

I am hiding.'

Sochi Choruh Pastry

our bulletin with today's
international and national news.

The German government
successfully brought down

an uprising
of the Jewish community

in the Warsaw ghetto,

thus restoring
law and order in the area.

The leaders of this communist uprising

have been duly punished.

The ghetto's dwellers are transferred...

Hey, Mikahil!

Are you dead,
or did you go to bed already?

Quick! Upstairs!

Meryem, the ladder.

Let the dogs out in the day.
They're going mad!

- Who's there?
- It's us, neighbor.

Welcome.

Come on in.

Snuff out your torches
here in this caldron.

We heard you went to town.

We thought
we'd come listen to the news.

We know nothing about the world here.

- Well Meryem, did you get used to here?
- Yes, thank you.

Get ready.

I'll go to the place we'll cross
the border. I want you to come along.

It'd be good to check the state
of the river before your friend arrives.

Ahmet!

Come round!

Do you have a habit
of passing out?

I hardly dragged you down
all the way here.

You can go back downstairs.
I'll handle the rest on my own.

Meryem, I'm off to town.

I don't think I'll be back tonight.

In the dark of the night

The bullet's whistling
through the steppe

Only the wind's humming up in the wires

Only the stars dimly twinkle

Aram Demirciyan
Born in Izmit, 1905

1915, last spring
Izmit - Konya train

What are you looking for, oh sinner man?

Is it gold or silver?

Or maybe golden robes?

You weren't looking for anything,
oh sinner man!

Neither gold nor silver

Nor golden robes either

You merely wanted a handful of dirt

Oh sinner man!

Just a handful of dirt

You need to drink.

Thank you. I feel fine.

I can even smell the aniseed
from outside.

It wouldn't surprise me. I've been
rubbing you with aniseed vodka for days.

That's a very nice picture.

I guess it was taken in
Sochi with your father, right?

Mikail is not my father...

he is my husband.

'Image and catastrophe' series
Portrait 13

Drink it, my little Şuşen.

My little Şuşen?

Jesus!

My child!

My poor child!

Şuşen!

My child!

My child!

How long will this last?

There's no telling.

Some years it won't stop
until the moon comes out.

All of our things rot.

That's why the people here call
this month 'the rotten month'.

'The rotten month'!

Mikahil must have fallen off
on the road.

What are we going to do?

I'll take the horse and go take a look.
He can't be far away.

I'm coming with you.

I think he dislocated his shoulder.

- Let's mount him on the horse.
- Alright.

Don't touch his left arm.

Your friend didn't show up
at the rendez-vous with the fisherman.

He didn't show up
the second day either.

Let's wait for another week.

In the meantime my arm will mend.

Otherwise we'll have to think
of another solution.

I've been a nuisance for you
long enough.

This radio isn't here for entertainment.
How will the battery last?

It hardly lasts for two weeks,
just listening to the news!

I know very well what it's for,
thank you.

Shut your mouth!

It's late, I'm going to bed.

Good night.

The villagers who were arrested today...

they were merely small-scale smugglers.
They won't tolerate even that much.

None of them does spy work for Russia.

This means that someone from the village
is working for the government.

I've been thinking...

It's not safe for you
to stay here anymore.

You'd be safer in the cabin,
in the woods.

Nobody will suspect anything there.

It's best for you and for us.

Don't leave your supplies in the open.

Put them up here in the basket
when you're through.

Ahmet... Have you ever used one before?

There are three bullets in it.

Take it.

The supplies I left
should last for three to four days.

Alright then, take care.

Hello, Mikahil. How are you?

Welcome, Fevzi.

They keep talking in the village.
I was curious...

Will you go back to Sochi with
your Russian wife when the war is over?

Fevzi, don't you have things to do
rather than gossiping?

Any news from Cemal
and the others who were arrested?

Our village headman
went to see the governor.

He told him: 'We know them.

They have nothing to do
with spying or Russia.'

But then the governor said:
'Still you keep good watch.

Russian agents are at work
all over the place.'

Any stranger around should immediately
be reported to the constabulary.

These days, one gets scared
of one's own shadow.

I'm even scared of going out
to the toilets at night.

1915, April, last spring
Izmit - Konya

Heavy operations were launched

against groups
diffusing leftist propaganda.

Intelligence services
successfully arrested

and prosecuted
dangerous communist activists

on account of pro-Russian propaganda

and bringing Turkey into disrepute.

Among them are writer Sabahattin Ali...

Maybe the man he's waiting for
was arrested?

I don't know.

But this looks like something big.

This sure doesn't sound good.

Are you sick again?

Do you think...

they took your friends in?

I wouldn't know.

Any news from the people arrested
the other day in the village?

I heard the soldiers set
their dogs on them

at the border of Ardahan.

How about if we cross the border
before Rasih comes?

Crossing is no big deal.

The tough part
is once on the other side.

Thank you.

What news from the front?

The Germans are on the retreat
from Belgrade

and Sicily.

Radio Ankara says
'a few critical months are ahead.'

I should be going.

Take care.

Mikahil!

Nothing.

Border area Entry forbidden

The situation is bad, Mikahil.

I'd advise you to get rid of this man
as soon as possible.

It's risky for him,
but for us as well.

They haven't shown up in days.
It means something has happened.

Let's say
I take him across the border.

Once caught,
he ends up in a prison camp.

This is war time,
who can trust whom?

How will they know
he's no Turkish spy?

Right.

Still, think about it.

Let's give them one more chance...

but that means ten more days.

Ten days is a long time these days.

I should get going.

Aram.

Nothing.

Where have you been?

In the village, a child got sick,
I went to help out.

The animals are starved.
Were you there until the evening?

Do you like the dress I bought for you?

I didn't look at it yet.
I will tomorrow.

I want to go back home.

To my parents' in Sochi.

How will you go there
while the border is closed?

Where will you cross?

Maybe your parents
aren't there anymore.

We don't have a clue
about where they are.

Just wait for the end of the war.

If Mr. Ahmet accepts,
I will go together with him.

I can manage on my own
once on the other side.

We got rid of the damn
city intellectual, now you start!

If the border hadn't closed
with the war,

I would have left him long ago.

No snow left in the mountains.

If it doesn't rain,
I know a place to cross.

Aram.

How long can you hold up here
in these woods?

I'll be back in two days.

Suspicious death of a journalist
at Police Department in Sansaryan Han

Inside this shack in the deep forest,
time withdraws to the rest of the earth.

I feel like a drop of water on sand.

I have nowhere left to escape.

Who are you?

You don't belong anywhere.

Some vagrant...

How long will I go on
living like a lodger?

Everything is too silent.

I remember more than I know.

My imagination is wider than my memory.

Time was not only the month of April,
1915, a date on a calendar...

time was blood.

Chopped meat rotting under the sun.

And the end of time was bone-white...

an ivory-white silence.

The whole land between the rivers
Aras and Dicle, a vast death field.

Everything, simply everything
is floating about...

Even memories.

Photographs, one by one.

A childhood suspended on a train
bound for eternity.

My father, a broken voice.

My sister Şuşen,
an angel whose arms were tied.

As to my mother...

Someone whose face
I can't even remember.

What about my own face then?

That of one of those who survived this.

Body parts flying about in the wind.

The heartbreaking lament of the elders
whose children fall apart in the desert.

Except the lament

becomes a dog,

enormous.

The lament becomes an angel,

enormous.

Their teardrops chewing off the wind.

Nothing can be heard but the lament.

I have to be brave...

and stay alive.

What do I care about your sick daughter?

You liar, you must have more gold!

You think I get this milk for free?

Aram, run!

Run away!

Aram, run away!

Get dressed, quick!
Don't come near the window.

Go away through the back door,

follow the meadow,

up to the cabin.

Head down to the river below the lake.

You should be able to cross by now.

What're you waiting for?

Meryem.

Nothing.

Sochi Choruh Pastry

Aram...

The soldiers!

Aram...

The soldiers!

Aram... The soldiers!

Meryem!

Aram...

To the memories of; those who
drowned, survived, buried without a grave.