All language subtitles for Rosa de Areia

Sometimes we lean ourselves
into reflection.

To be very deeply
immersed into the night

Around us, the men sleep.

A little comedy.

An innocent illusion that
they sleep...

in their homes, on solid beds

under solid ceilings...

Extended or huddled in their beds,

in their sheets under the covers...

In fact, they came together
as before

As when they were in
the desert.

In a wild, windy space.

An incalculable number of men.

An army.

A crowd under a cold sky.

In a cold land.

Men who were thrown to the ground
in the very place where they were.

Their heads resting firmly
under their arms.

Their faces against the ground.

Quietly breathing.

Wait!

Wait!

What is this?

Yes, I'll go along with you.

I've seen scenes like this
several times.

It's foolish, indeed...

What a pity!

They said that they saw her
hurting herself with such violence.

So wildly.

I cannot do a thing.

How can you be, oh mother,
so comprehensive...

with a crowd like that,
so cold?

That woman lies
in the most deep darkness...

However...

so weak.

She is wandering
on her way on earth...

but she has within herself
such force...

that could turn the world
upside down

How could I make her think...

that everything depends only
on her?

That everything could come
from her?

And so?

That poor woman is made of
stronger and older...

habits then herself.

And so...

how could we, foreign ones...

warn her of that?

Besides the fox,

who serves
the inhabitants of Thrace,

when they decide
to cross over the ice

of any frozen river

in effect, they throw
the animal ahead of them

like we would do,
at the water's edge.

The fox brings his ear
close to the ice

to perceive if it will be
a long or short distance

by the noise of the water's
current below

and through this process

if the ice is more or less thick,

whether they should go
back or forth.

Have we not reason to believe
what passes through its head

are the same ideas that come
to our own

and that it is a ratiocination and
consequence drawn from natural sense?

Everything that makes noise, moves.

Anything that has movement
is not frozen.

Anything not frozen is liquid
and yields to impression.

Look! Up there, in the valley.

How angry, how noisy...

violence and disorder.

- I see also self love

and vanity.

Who forced them
to fight one against another?

Fighting to the death.

- A king...
- Against whom?

- Against another king's soldiers...

So they fight against themselves...

at this outward tumult.

But...why do they obey
so blindly?

They obey the laws that exist...

not because they're right,
but because they're laws.

The law's mystical fundament,
only this...

The soldiers must fight
to defend their masters...

But, before struggling until death
they had already spent their lives...

producing wealth.

Creating their kings and
the power that keeps them alive.

These laws are decided
by fools who lack equity

but always, always by men.

Vain and irresolute authors.

Look at that exiled soldier
who walks on foot,

without a spear or armor.

He has lost his horse

after, he lost his brother
and his friend.

I've seen his king die too.

He's completely alone...

totally lost.

He falls and rolls in the dust
in paroxysms of loss...

In sorrow.
And, in the excess of his pain...

with violence, he dies.

This war ended several years ago.

Of the thousands and thousands
of men who died

in a few hundred years,
bearing arms,

there are not even
a hundred we know.

All of them, however, are deprived
of your tears.

Buried in the deepest night.

Not only the chief's memories,
but himself as well...

Memories of victories and battles...

all buried here.

It will be already many...

if from here a hundred years hence...

there is a reminder that in
our time...

there were wars between us,

like that one that passed down
there, in this valley.

Come over, Wandering Soul...

come back from the Hills...

from the forest,
the roads or fountains...

from the shadows or mists...

from the slimes or deep sea...

wherever you wander...

nothing you will lack here.

Oh Soul, come with me...

come to your Home.

Sheltered from the storms...

the winds...

and the Dark Night.

Has the Ailing's Soul returned?

- The Ailing's Soul has came home
already.

Public reading of the case
and sentence,

made according to the Usual
Procedure...

in the presence of
the victim's family members,

of the owner of the
homicidal pig

and also in the presence
of the Jury...

notables, bourgeois and people.

At the Town of Castelo Branco,
April 2nd, 1428.

At the request of the victim's
father and also the eyewitnesses...

I was personally charged as
a procurator

to open an investigation into the cir-
cumstances in which the crime occurred.

Thus, after the first statements
of the witnesses...

I concluded that the animal
was incriminated

for being caught
red-handed while

devouring a newborn of about
two and a half months...

who had been left in a crib
at the front of their parent's house.

Thus confirmed the crime of
the animal...

the executor of Justice
and his officers...

seized his person and
locked him up to be sentenced

after the usual process in the prison of
this village where he has been enrolled

as Silvano Pig, from
its owner's Name Silvano...

which is present here.

In the course of the proceedings

the witnesses were heard
and confronted with the accused,

having their assumptions confirmed...

confirming again the fact that
he was charged.

I then made the requisition, as
a juror, for a surgeon that is present

and came from the far away town
of Algozo to take a look at the victim.

After observation he concluded that
the severe wounds on the victim's body

were the cause of his death.

Following his statements,
the owner of the animal was heard...

Who declared the ownership of
the animal who committed the crime.

This morning, day of the execution
and in front of the prison...

I met with the magistrates and
some people.

Being pronounced,
in that same place...

between two drumbeats,
the capital sentence.

Indeed, I looked into the eyes
of the criminal animal

and declared: "for having
devoured a helpless child

and thus caused his death

you are condemned in justice
to the death penalty.

And shall be killed
and hung on the gallows."

Because the pig was a brutish beast...

- The proceeding have
been sent to me after

and the death sentence was upheld
by the magistrate's council.

The consignment of animals
to justice...

has been defended by the majority
of jurists and theologians...

which, as in previous centuries...

are based on a biblical passage,
the Mosaic prescription of the Exodus

Chapter 21, Verse 28...

"If an animal attacks and injures
a human...

in such a way that leads
to his death...

this animal shall be stoned to death
and its flesh will not be consumed,

but the owner shall be
declared innocent.

If a brutish beast...

commits a crime, shall it die?

I say it: yes!

According to use and tradition
of this country and of this region,

having God before our eyes.

we declare the pig
guilty of homicide

of a defenseless child
and condemn it, the guilty one,

to the last torture: to be hanged
on the gallows until dead.

There it will stay for a long time,
until it rots...

To the memory of the enormity of
its crime and to incite reflection

on others who might want
to imitate him.

The owner will lose the right
to the animal's meat

which will not be consumed.

Will pay the costs of
the whole process,

including the costs of obtaining
and transporting the animal.

And he must pay that sum
to the executor of justice.

The execution, solemn and public,
of this sentence will be entrusted

to the specially chosen
executioner, called from the

distant village of
Campo de Viboras

by whose hands,
shall come justice.

Account of my work,
expenses and salary:

16.5 pounds and a dime.

For the expenses made by Pig
Leandro in prison: 18 pounds.

My coming, the executioner,
from Campo de Viboras,

10 leagues distant from this village
to perform the execution...

by the command of our judge and
the procurator of the King

127 pounds.

Item: for the cart that carried
the gallows of justice:

18 pounds.

Item: for the rope with which
the animal's legs were fastened

during the transport and that
was used to hang it:

6 pounds and 8 dimes.

Item: for new gloves to manipulate the
criminal and avoid contact

with the brute beast, gloves that were
destroyed by fire after the execution:

6 pounds.

Where do the half moons go?

Where do the moons go
in union with the years?

Where do the seasons go?

Tell me your origins.

They arrived where the two virgins
of different faces rush together.

Day and Night.

To arrive where the waters rush.

Why does the wind never rest?

Why does not the spirit rest?

Why do the waters never
stop in search of truth?

Never...ever.

As always, like every day...

I cross these places and these hills
in the heat of summer

or in the rigors of winter.

I'm the one who brings the bread...

It's me who brings, rarely it's true..

other food to the isolated
poor that exist in the tens.

And there is always more and more.
They pile up in the pavilion.

My lords say

they gave it to all who lost
their lair, poor and hungry

who roam this vast country.

And among them there are
many children.

Dozens of hungry children,
with feverish eyes...

slow gestures, swollen
and misshapen bellies.

But all changed.

Since the memory of Man,

there has never been such
a shortage of food as now.

Such years of hunger,
such misery...

Such years of hunger as now.

I went to work this morning
as usual...

to receive the bread.

But it was refused to me.

All changed.

Not being able to endure the sight
of these poor people any longer

My lords ordered their tent to be
incinerated...

as soon as the unhappy ones were
gathered there

and well closed.

That's the reason for my empty
hands today.

At this time...

compassionate peasants of the
region...

are removing calcined bodies
of the prisoners...

which are several hundred.

They spread them out on
the stubble...

In long, ugly black lines.

They still try to save some
of them...

with life...but that's not possible.

Because the order was to reinforce
the ceiling with lots of dry straw.

Before, finally starting...

the fire.

What is happening at this
moment

in the other tents of these country?

Like here, they lack food too...

Human help...and life.

I know someday I'll die.

I feel someday I'll die.

And at this moment, I suffer.

I would like to be truly multiple.

I would like to be a mother...
infinitely.

I...I'm still alive.

But...I'm a dead soul already.

I do not exist.

Fragile thoughts dance in me.

But...now that I see you...

It seems like I can see myself
in your eyes.

I do not understand you anymore.

My words
are like the passing wind.

Think of the dust we raise
with our feet...

In the wasteland of the ways.

These are truly dead for ever
and ever.

Of those there are not even
faces in memory.

And our lips obstinately refuse to
pronounce their forgotten names.

Already it is night.

Let's return home.

Oh...how long life can be!

How tired I feel!

I would like to be...completely alone.

You are a fatigued soul...

A soul tired of fighting...

Notice this wine...
so precious

it is made by the sun and dust...

and rain.

The vines matured slowly, day by day.

And the bees came to rest
on the grapes...

covered with impalpable gold dust.

It is one of your special wines?

No, no...

He doesn't hear very well.
He died some years ago.

Father...

- Love you so much...
- I know it very well.

I know it very well, beloved daughter.

No, Father...

Don't go away...

It is necessary...

It is necessary to leave.

Too late...

Too late, father...

No! Not this way!

A man, crossing a field,
encountered a tiger.

He fled,

with the tiger always chasing him.

Coming to a cliff,
he clung to a wild vine root

and swung himself down over the edge.

Above, the tiger sniffed him.

Trembling, the man looked down where

deep down, another tiger
waited to devour him.

Only the vine sustained him.

Two mice, one white and one black

little by little, began to gnaw
on the root of the vine.

The man then saw a ripe
strawberry near him.

Clinging to the vine with one hand

he picked the strawberry
with the other.

How sweet was the taste!

We can glimpse the beauty
of these fragile bodies...

in the early twilight of history.

When mothers, unable to leave
their young children,

still unable to cling to their
bodies stay attached.

When the ancient mothers stood
upright on their firm and new feet

and ran carrying the children
in their human arms.

Sadness lifted his mask
from Cervantes.

Strange was the night

when so many sighs were lost

at the intersections
of the rooms.

At the time the constellations
change the word

for the men of exile

decline in the sand

in search of a pure place.

Cosmos, that's all there is...

Is what it was.
It is what it will be once.

The simplest contemplation
of the universe moves us...

The voice fades like
an ancient sigh...

Or at the imminence
of a fall into the abyss.

We know that we are approaching
the greatest of mysteries.

The size and age of the
universe surpasses our understanding.

Our tiny planetary being
is hanging at a point...

Something between immensity
and eternity.

We float in the universe as a grain
of dust floats in the morning air.

The surface of earth we step on is
the threshold of the cosmic ocean.

And It calls us.

A part of us knows we belong there.

And that we come from it.

Earth is just a place.

But it is not even a normal place.

Because most of the cosmos is empty.

Normal is the vast
and immense emptiness.

Cold and universal:
the eternal night of space.

In comparison to it,
stars and their planets...

look like something painfully rare
and precious.

If we let ourselves go randomly
into the cosmos...

the probability that we would
be on a planet or in its vicinity...

would be less than a part in billions,

of billions of millions.

- You know, I think the toy is
a fascinating toy!

Because it allows us to have
a microscope of a transition...

We have to think clearly
about evidence...

If you fix your eyes too far away...

beyond, on the far horizon...

when the morning or twilight
mists arise...

at some moments, you see,
even faintly and in the distance...

vague and iridescent lights...

with mineral vestiges
that very quickly fade again.

The horizon returns to
appear smooth and pure.

Or the darkness of the night falls.

It is the great city...

seen many, many leagues from here.

It stands out there, endless.

on all sides, covering the earth,
invading the sky...

An immense extent
you cannot imagine.

But it is enough that on this high
mountain we can look every way.

You don't belong there.

There, would be lacking for you, heaven

air, space and silence.

This immense, circular
and desert field...

which we saw up there on the mountain,
is the nuclear field.

They call it so because ancient
atomic experiments...

were done on this island.

In this place.

Everything was reduced to
this dead, gray dust...

And the little plants that children
pick are never born again.

And which I like so much.

Light grasses, bright, gold buttons...

And this whole field...

whose limits still seem
so clear to us,

increases insensibly

year after year in every way

and assails the desert plateau.

And with an immense, flat well
full of cold ashes...

overflows, too fully...

over this valley...

over this island.

- But, who are you?

- It would be very difficult
to tell you.

We're together here, yes.

- I speak to you.
- Indeed.

You talk to yourself.

Yes. I speak loudly.

I speak to myself.

We are the same person.

Perhaps, the same image.

How beautiful you are!

You are extremely fragile!

And yet...

you are already so old.

- I am contemporary of everything.

Nature is infinite.

Thick, tissue.
Massive.

It is inexhaustible movement.

Tapestry always unfinished...

where, incessantly,

all forms are drawn and extinguished.

Endless networks of
unexplainable stories...

confused stridency of
discordant voices...

in such an annulment,

a silent explosion.

Everything happens in the dark.

It is necessary, perhaps...

to choose a thread at random.

The idea of these stories is yours

and I'm not going to interfere
with them.

And yet, was there ever

anything

somewhere, in some time?

The end
Subs by: MisterCarlos