All language subtitles for Alborada.2021.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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Come Sir.

Any baggages ?

I came empty handed.

I'll have to buy everything
starting with new underwear.

Don't worry, Sir.

The Fort has all the
fashionable fabrics from London.

We can find a tailor
and get everything made.

Even underwear Sir.

How come you came
in a hurry, Sir ?

I asked to be transferred.

If I had stayed any longer,

I'd have been killed
by a Burmese Panther.

Oh...

Panther ?

We don't have Panthers, Sir.

We only have leopards Sir.

Parvati ?

It looks like her Sir.

Are you familiar with it ?

I came via Calcutta.

I saw many of these there.

The previous tenants
brought it from India.

Your predecessor
never played this Sir.

It's out of tune.

Isn't it ?

I will show you
the bedroom, Sir.

There is only one bedroom
in this house, Sir.

One bedroom,

but there are many windows, Sir.

Come and see.

It's beautiful, Sir.

Opening in to beach, Sir.

Windows to see all
the surroundings.

Train...

Beautiful scene, Sir.

You come and see.

We have a nice
neighbourhood, Sir.

You see.

Beautiful place, Sir.

Where is the toilet ?

It's outside, Sir.

It's so far away...

No drainage... ?

Can you demonstrate
how the toilet is used ?

You go inside, Sir.

Close the door

and hang your pants on this nail
and do your business.

We usually wash
ourselves afterwards,

but of course,
your lot prefers to wipe, Sir.

No need to feel disgusted.

When you come in the morning,
this will be clean again.

Follow that ...

Stop ! Stop !

Thank you both so
much for coming.

Same time, next month.

Wonderful.
Thank you!

Well, well, well...

Did I mistakenly invite you
to the after party ?

I'm afraid, we are not having
one of those tonight.

I am terribly sorry
for my tardiness,

I got distracted
and lost my way.

Looks like I missed
a great evening.

Anyway,

you're here now !
Come, still a few friends left.

Recardo Reyers,
new Chilean Consul to Ceylon.

Welcome to Ceylon...

Thought you weren't going to
make it. Got lost, did you ?

In a manner of speaking.
I was on my way when I
heard this unusual music.

I had to know where
it was coming from.

Quite mesmerizing really.

Mesmerizing ?
Surely you mean, "unbearable" ?

You found mesmerizing
music here ?

Yeah.. It was...

at least for me...

Oh, I can't stand the sound of
so-called local music.

Just a lot of screeching.

Was it really music for you ?

It was the unusual percussion...

the drums...

and a female voice...

I completely lost
the track of time.

You sound like you had
a drink already, Sir.

I don't believe the natives
possess a sound music culture.

It's very primitive
and unformed.

This 'tom-toming' in front of
churches and mosques initiated
a series of communal violence...

But it seems our new friend
Recrado here rather impressed
by the primitive and unformed.

Well you know,
there might be something there.

I believe what Ricardo heard
was ritualistic music.

It has its own unique form.

It's raw,

but not simple.

And a man of the arts would
find it irressistible to be
intrigued by its complexity.

Now Lionel. Are you
accusing us are being prudes

who can't appriciate the arts ?

Yes, I do believe he is !

He's not wrong !

Sorry, we must leave...

Why don't you take him inside
and offer him a drink...

Of course.

Please...

I'm sorry,
we haven't met.

Lionel...
Pleasure.

Pleasure is mine.

I must thank you for...

Oh, don't worry.

I was simply stating the facts.

I said what I saw.
I felt the music.

I know and you're not wrong.

Oh please meet Mr and Mrs...

Pleased to meet you.

Peter.

Drinks here, please...

Cheers...

'I love the love of sailors,

Who kiss,

then leave'

Oh ! What a surprise !

You know it ?

Every word of it.

Patsy.

Oh, Habanera Carmen.

Amazing !

Pablo...

Oh... You know my pen name ?

One day everyone in
the world will know it.

What a joke...

May I ask you something ?

What would that be ?

It's rather a...
request of sorts.

I'd like you to recite
at least a bit of that
pretty verse... "Farewell".

In Spanish...?

Yes...

How it was meant to be recited.

Whisper it in your ear.. ?

Yes...

Whisper just to me...

I love the love of
sailors Who kiss and go.

They leave a promise.
They never return.

A woman waits in every
port: Sailors kiss and go.

One night they lie with
death On the seabed.

I love the love that is shared
with kisses, bed and bread.

Love that can be eternal
And can also be brief

Love that wants to free
itself In order to love again.

Deified love that comes close
Deified love that leaves

My eyes will not delight
themselves in yours anymore,

My pain will not be sweetened
by you anymore.

But wherever I go
I will take with me your gaze

And wherever you go
you will take my pain.

I was yours, you were mine.

What else ?

Together we made a bend on the
route where love went past.

I was yours, you were mine.

You will belong to
the one who loves you,

to the one who cuts
in your orchard that
which I have planted.

Okay, Go...

Come!

Are you the one who cleans
the toilet bucket every day ?

No, sir. There are sakkili
women for that duty.

Sakkili ?

Yes.

Low caste Tamils,

who clean toilets.

Untouchables.

But...

Aren't you a Tamil ?

Yes, Sir.

Not like me.

They are low caste.

Untouchables.

Hello !

What a surprise meeting.

Oh well,

not particularly.

Unlike India,
Ceylon is just a tiny island.

And Colombo is just a little
dot on the west-coast.

Yes.

Oh, by the...

Are you familiar with this ?

Yes.
Why not.

But I'm still not
familiar with the land.

Especially Colombo.

It looks vibrant, but...

also seems so complicated too.

What are these books ?

Oh, these are just some that
I ordered. They just arrived.

I have a very good collection
actually. If you're interested.

I also have a copy of
the notorious "Lady
Chatterly's Lover",

privately published
in Florence last year.

Oh...

Oh my god !

I see.
What a treasure.

Why don't you come to my place
To have a chat over a drink.

Oh yeah, okay
That sounds okay.

Take it.

Oh, thank you.

That's just great!

I'll do that.

Sure.

Stop !

I said you to stop fool.

What's there...?

Sakkili have gotten paid.

This is what it's
like on pay day.

Who pays them ?

The Company who
runs the business.

Collecting shit is a business ?

Yes, Sir.

it's a profitable one.

But these people are paid a few
bucks for that disgusting job.

Hmm...

There's a long way to go, Sir.

It's Ok.

Don't go, Sir.

Why ?

They are untouchables.

I can find my way back.

I am not a damn child !

If you want,
get yourself dropped.

Sir...

Sir...

You are dirty.

You are dirty.

You touched those
sakkili women...

without washing your body,

don't come to the Bangalow.

Sorry sir.

A funeral procession, Sir.

You people dance
when someone dies ?

We don't,

but these low caste
people do, Sir.

They happy to Dance this
miserable life is over.

And they believe that their
next life will not be a
pariah life like this.

Can you turn your
face to that side...

Turn to this side...

Yes.

I think I loved her.

You think ?

Yeah.

At least with the
ugliness of Rangoon,

she was like an angel.

I mean in the early days.

She was a lovely woman.

Most of the time she
was wearing an amber
flower in her black hair.

She used to smoke a big cigar.

I loved sharing it with her.

A beautiful woman.

There was no reason
not to love her.

Yes.

I loved Josie.

Josie ?

Yes.

Josie Bliss.

What a name !

What a name !

And so then the angel
became a demon ?

That rage couldn't be
controlled or tolerated.

She bit me a couple of times.

Love at its best ! Ah...

A love terrorist !

You wouldn't believe that.

I was keeping a sharp knife
just for my safety.

Right.

You come to the
studio for a day,

we will do it properly.

Take those palm leaves out.

He's got a pretty
decent body, right ?

I told him to come
to the studio.

This light is not
right, you know.

Keep those here.

Let' take a picture.

Come on.

Come here.

You...

And then what happened ?

You left her,

this 'love terrorist,'

and you ran off ?

There was no other option
than to come in secret
without telling her.

I came here from Rangoon
and on the way, in Calcutta,

I wrote a letter to her.

A poem rather.

I posted it before
I left Calcutta.

Oh Maligna, by now you
will have found the letter,

by now you will
have cried with rage

and you will have insulted
the memory of my mother

calling her a rotten bitch
and a mother of dogs,

by now you will
have drunk alone,

all by yourself, your afternoon
tea with your eyes on my old
shoes which are empty forever,

and by now you will not be able
to recall my illnesses,

my dreams at night, my meals
without cursing me out loud

as though I were still there
complaining of the tropics,
of the corringhis coolies,

of the poisonous fevers
which did me such harm,

and of the dreadful
Englishmen whom I still hate.

Pablo.

How dare you wrote those
lines for a woman that
you once loved so much..?

You are a bastard.

Maligna,

the truth of it,

how huge the night is,
how lonely the earth!

I have gone back again
to lonely bedrooms,

to cold lunches in restaurants,

and again I throw my pants
and my shirts on the floor,

There are no hangers in
my room, and nobody's
pictures are on the walls,

How much of the shadow
that is in my soul I would
give to have you back,

the names of the months
sound to me like threats,

and the word winter is like
the sound of a dismal drum.

Later on, you will find
buried near the coconut tree

the knife which I hid there
for fear you would kill me,

and now suddenly I
would be glad to smell

its steel cookware used to
the weight of your hand,

and the shine of your foot:

under the dampness of the
ground, among the deaf roots,

in all the languages of men only
the poor will know your name,

and the dense earth does
not understand your name

made of impenetrable
divine substances.

You ?

Yes. It's me...

What brought you here ?

You know what brought
me here, my Love.

Open...!

Open...!

How could you do that ?

You can't hide from me.

You can hide across the seven
seas, but I will still find you.

You knew that I can't
even breathe without you.

Ratnaigh...

She has come all the
way from Rangoon.

I knew she would come.

The woman I told you...

That evil one.

The Burmese Panther.

She..She has come.

She's here.

Don't

Don't let her into the house.

Don't even open the door.

Understand ?

Didn't you say you came
without telling anyone ?

How can someone find you ?

That's what I'm telling you.

She's a devil !

Yes, Sir.

She is a devil.

Not a devil.

She is the devil.

She's found the knife that I
buried under the palm tree.

Don't let her into the house.

Where are the matches ?

Where are the matches ?

Thank you.

I left everything there.

I leave it all behind.

But I couldn't
leave your memory.

How dare you...

If your soul leaves me,
my body will be lost.

If the body escapes,
the soul loses.

You knew that.

You knew that I couldn't
live a life without you.

You owe me an explanation...

Pablo,

Love is a bait you use on women.

You've never loved.

You,

the great poet,

should know that love
for a woman is tears;

A silence dissolved in blood.

You, old bitch..!

Are you going to
sleep with him ?

I'll cut you like a fish.

Ratnaigh...

A soup.
Give this to your master.

Thank you Madam.

No need for that now.

Clean it in the morning.

Go now.

Get out of here.

Thus it hurts me to think of
the clear day of your legs

resting like suspended and
firm water from the sun

and the swallow that lives in
your eyes sleeping and flying,

and the mad dog that
you harbor in your heart,

and thus also I see the dead

who are between us
and will be from now on,

and I breathe in the air
made of ashes and ruins,

the vast solitary space
that surrounds me forever.

I would give this giant wind of
the sea for your sudden breath

heard in the long nights
unmixed with forgetfulness,

becoming part of the atmosphere
as the whip on the horse's skin,

And to hear you urinate,

in the darkness,

in the back of the house,

As though you were
pouring a thin, trembling,
silvery, persistent honey,

how many times over would
I yield up this choir of
shadows which I possess,

and the sound of useless swords
which is audible in my soul,

and the dove of blood,
alone on my forehead,

calling to things
which have vanished,

to beings who have vanished,

to substances incomprehensibly
inseparable and lost.

I gave you my whole life.

It was an exchange.

I only asked for
one thing in return.

Love.

I know you loved me.

I felt it.

And I cherished every bit of it.

Your love healed my soul.

I didn't need anything else.

Only you.

You spread yourself across
my entire existence.

and you took all of it with you.

You left a gaping
hole in my soul.

Only your love can heal me now.

I can't let you
get away with this.

I am the only one who
has the right to sleep
in this bed next to you.

You can't be happy without me.

You belong to me.

You belong to no
one else but me.

And if you do...

I will cut you into thousands
of pieces with this knife.

Your own knife.

Sir..?

Sir..?

I had a nightmare.

Ahh...

Don't let her in.

Don't talk with her
without my permission.

You are not to approach her
without consulting me first,

Understood ?

You are here.

Oh, you do not run away

You will answer me
to the last cry.

Curl round me as though
you were frightened

Even so,

a strange shadow once
ran through your eyes

Now,

now too,

little one,

you bring me honey suckle,

and even your
breasts smell of it.

While the sad wind goes
slaughtering butterflies,

I love you,

and my happiness bites
the plum of your mouth.

Pablo...

You wrote all these lines,
before you even met me.

Is Pablo not in ?

He's in.

He has locked himself inside.

Why ?
Is he not well ?

Yes.

Very sick.

Only I can cure him.

And you are Pablo's...?

Desire.

I am his desire.

His love...

Can I take your picture..?

My photo ?

Yes..?

No.

Why ?
You don't like it ?

No.

It's not that I don't like it,

I don't exist for you...

I exist only for Pablo...

I thought your master was in.

The Consulate is closed,
on Sundays

Give this to him.

Don't open the gate..,
or the front door.

We have to buy some
groceries Sir...

Good morning Mr. Pablo!

Stop !

Stop !

I must put my nets,

in the waves of my past.

and fish out the hate.

I need to get him out of the
dream, that he's trapped in.

At the bottom of my heart
is the fire of love.

He's responsible of that fire.

That's why I want to fish
out the hate from that sea...

Let me do it.

Let me do it.

Or I'll cut you
all in to pieces.

Go. Go.

Consuls like me-honorary
receive a miserable salary,

lowest of the entire staff.

And the worst yet,

this salary depends on
the income of the consulate.

So, if there are no
exports to Chile one month,

there is no money for me.

Hope you understand
what I mean ?

A ship leaves in a week.

You have to deliver this order
somehow to ship in it.

I will try my best sir.

Bring her inside
through the back door.

Back door ?

Yes.
The back door.

Pablo...

What is going on here ?

What is going on here ?
- Shh...

Why weren't you at
the party last night ?

I had no way of
leaving the house !

You look strange.

What's the problem ?

Even a fly could've
come close to me.

It was a strange form
of love terrorism.

I...

I really wanted to die.

But I couldn't,

because of that I came here.

I know this story.

How many times have you told
me this same story ?

Fuck...

Yes.

I'm sorry...

Never mind...

I've loved so many women.

I slept with them.

But I've never experienced
such a deadly romance.

Did she give this to you ?

Who ?

You brought this...?

Pablo.

I know how you went wrong.

You think love is a poem;

tried to interpret
it with a poem.

It's true honey.

Love is looking for a language.

But, you the great poet,

should know that love exists
only when language fails.

So, let love be in search
of the language forever.

So, you mean...

Shh...

You are my love.

Pablo !

Pablo, open the door.

Door opens]

What do you want...?

What did I want ?

I wanted everything !

Every bit of you !

Now, I don't want anything...

I'm going now...

I'm going forever !

Could you believe,

she came all the way from there.

like a storm,

looking for me.

That's love my dear...

I hate her.

You are still in love with her.

She came like a storm,

left like a breeze.

Come on, man.

Forget about it.

Let's go to my place
for a drink. Eh..?

Not today my friend.

I want to be alone.

The unavoidable condition of
the creative writer.

What ?

Forced loneliness.

Fuck you !

I'm serious.

Hey boy...

Come here.

Who is this young man ?

He is the one who
told me that you were
strolling along the beach.

Sit by this gentleman.

I want to take a photograph.

Look at the camera.

Sakkilies are brought from
India to work in tea estates
and clean toilets in towns.

So, you too came from India.

Didn't you ?

Yes, Sir.

Sinhala people,
we Tamils,

we both came from India
thousand years ago, Sir.

We are the true owners
of this country.

But these Sakkili people
brought by Whites,

to do the filthy
work for the Whites.

They are not citizens
of this country.

You will wait and see, Sir.

They have to go back
when we get the independence.

Do you think you will get
independence without a fight
from these colonial bastards ?

Yes, Sir.
We will get it soon.

And we won't give
up the fight Sir.

I don't see you fighting.

I don't see a struggle
for freedom here.

Oh no

No, Sir.

In India,

Gandhi Sir, Nehru Sir,

They won't give
up the fight, Sir.

Recently,
Gandhi Sir was also here, Sir.

No, Sir.

We are Hindus.

We don't drink.

Mhh...

Is she the one who cleans
the toilet bucket every day ?

Yes, Sir.

She is an outcast Tamil.

Do you use the toilet ?

No, Sir.

Don't ever use it.

It's exclusively for me.

Are you the one,
who stopped her coming ?

Aren't you ashamed to
sleep with an untouchable ?

Bitch.

Are you insane ?

Are you saying the
villagers are lying ?

I'll cut you up and
dump you in the ocean.

This man is trying to kill me !
Murderer !

Someone help me !

Stop !

Stop !

I'll kill you today, whore.

Stop !

Why? Why? Why?

What are you saying, bitch !

Wait...

Ahh...

Aren't you ashamed
to beat a woman ?

What the fuck !

If I don't beat and control
my wife who will do it ?

Just get out of here, mister.

Only when she gets a beating
she crawls into bed at
night like a bitch in heat.

Tell that woman I am not here,

and I will not be at
home for a few days.

That's enough.

This piano is
terribly out of tune.

I should go.

I'll see you later.

Take this Sir home.

Let's go, Sir.

What?

What are you going
to do Rathnaigh?

Come, Sir.

Let's go.

I will take you home.

No. No.

Rathnaigh you get
off from the cycle.

In this rain ?

Are you insane ?

I will ride.

No, no it's not
appropriate, Sir.

You're a Sir.
I'm just a ...

No No...
- Come on Sir. I will drop you.

Give me the umbrella.

No, no Sir.
I will ride.

Rathnaigh give me
the umbrella man.

Let's walk.

You take the bicycle.

Don't get wet.

Slaps