All language subtitles for Az ember tragediaja.engAz ember tragdija 1969

Glory to God in the highest,

Heaven and earth do both Him praise,

Who with one Word
brought all things into being

And continues to uphold them
with His gaze.

The Eternal Concept
is made flesh, behold

The consummation of His will to form

As from His creatures
now The Lord awaits

Appropriate homage to His Seat of State.

It�s done, the great act of creation.

The maker rests.
The wheel�s in motion

And will rotate upon its axle for

A hundred million years before

A single cog wears out.

Take wing
My sentinels, begin your orbiting.

Once more let me admire
and hear the sweet

Sound of your circuit,
smooth beneath my feet.

Thou who compassed the infinitudes,

Creating matter out of nothing,

With one word wrought out of matter�s being
Both measure and weight, we offer to Thee

Our hosannas, Concept Eternal.

Thou who fused the changeless
and the changing,

Establishing both perpetuity

And time itself, uniting entity

And nationhood, we offer to Thee

Our hosannas, Power Eternal.

Thou flood and fountain of our happiness,
Bringer of the body to self-consciousness,

Allowing the entire world to partake
Of Thy wisdom, we offer to Thee

Our hosannas, Virtue Eternal.

You there, Lucifer,
proudly standing apart,

No word of praise from you?
Are you still silent?

Does something in my work,
perhaps, displease you?

And what should please me?

That certain substances,

Are now screwed up into these tiny globes
That chase, attract or repel each other,

Awaking a few worms to consciousness

Till all of space is tilled at last,
grows cold,

And only the indifferent slag is left?

Some hash like this
with his poor instruments.

What is the point of the whole exercise?

A poem of self-praise is all it is

You match it to this feeble hurdy-gurdy

And listen to the same old weary tune
Whine on and on in endless repetition.

Is it becoming to Your ripe old age, to
play with this contraption fit for children?

A spark of life within a little clay,
A simulacrum,

not a faithful likeness;

Free-will and fate in mutual pursuit:

It lacks all harmony,
all sense of meaning.

I merit praise alone, not condemnation.

I only render what is in my nature.

This wretched crew
will serve to flatter You,

Not surprisingly since
they're Your creatures.

You begat them as
light begets a shadow

But I had pre-existence,
and am ageless.

Such impudence!
Were you not born of matter?

What power had you before?
What sphere? What realm?

I might perhaps enquire the same of You.

What here is bodied forth into existence

Had life in me
before the dawn of time.

You never sensed that void
in Your conceptions,

That barrier to every mode of being

Whose very presence
compelled You to create?

That barrier was one named Lucifer,
The underlying spirit of negation.

You triumphed over me

since it's my fate
Incessantly to fail in all my struggles

But then, revitalized, to rise again,

When You made matter

I gained my estate; There
stands life, and there beside it, death,

Joy on the one hand, discord the other,
Shade follows light, doubt succeeds to hope

And see, I'm always with You everywhere.
Knowing You as I do

why pay homage?

Out of my sight, you spirit of sedition!

I could destroy you utterly,
but no,

Fight on, abhorred, in exile, in the mire,
Forbidden every solace

of the spirit,
And in your bleak and anguished solitude

Let this one thought
be an eternal torment:

However you may shake
your chains of dust

Your struggle with the Lord
is doomed to failure.

No, not so fast

I won't go just like that,
You can't discard me like a broken tool.

We are both creative spirits.
I demand my portion.

Just as you wish.
Look down to earth:

In the heart of Eden

stand two slender trees.

I curse the pair of them:
now they are yours.

No wonder you are mean,

you have the means.

The merest patch of ground
will do for me.

A foothold I require,
no more, you'll see,

To sow negation
and spread anarchy.

Ah Life,

Life, how sweet to be alive!

The lord and master of the world!

To feel that they are fending for us,

That all we need to do is show Him

How bounden we are to His favour.

To lean on others is your law, I see.

I'm thirsty, Eve. Just look how temptingly
That fruit leers down at us.

- I'll pluck it with my hand.
- Beware! beware!

The whole wide world is yours
But those two trees

you must shun. Shun!

An alien spirit guards
their tender fruit,

And those who taste it
find their life undone.

A strange command.
How stern it seems.

Why are those two trees more lovely?
Why are they the ones forbidden?

Why is sky blue or grass green?
That's just their way.

Let's heed the voice.
Come follow me, Eve.

Lay your head against my breast,
I'll gently fan you while you rest.

What's that?
I've heard nothing like it.

I feel as if some foreign force
Had broken bounds.

Why stare?
Ah lovely lady, wait!

A moment I beg to marvel at you.

A pretty pattern of perfections.
Frightened, Adam?

Of you, low creature?

A father fit to sire proud men.

Greetings to you, brother spirit!

Who are you, tell me?
From worlds below ours or above?

As you please, to us
There is no difference in degree.

I did not know that other men could be.

But there is so much more
you do not know

And never will.

Do you suppose
The Ancient in simplicity

Created you from dust that you

Might share His world?
You give Him praise:

He keeps you well supplied in turn.
He says to you, Take this, Leave that,

And tends and leads you
like a sheep;

For wit?

Do I not have my wits?

Do I not feel the blessed daylight,

The sweet delight of being alive,
The endless goodness of my God

Who placed me here
as the world's prince?

The tiny maggot, who consumes
The fruit before you, thinks the same,

As does the eagle seizing on his prey.

What makes you nobler then than they?

One common spark burns in you all,

the power of thought,
Which languishes in you, unwitting,

Might help you grow

to proper manhood,
To trust in your own strength, to choose

Between the evil and the good,
To take charge of your destiny,

Like any worm in a warm dungheap,

Lapped within your feeble limits,
And waste your life in ignorance.

A satisfying faith is nice and neat:

It's nobler but harder
to stand on your own feet.

- How you speak! it makes my head spin.
- These beautiful new things inspire me.

But knowledge alone is not enough;

For if it is to bear fruit in great deeds,
Eternal life is something else you need.

What can you do
with this mere thimbleful?

These two trees here
will make you lords of all,

The very two forbidden you

By God who first created you,
Taste and you will equal God in wisdom,

Taste, eternal youth
and grace are yours.

- How mean is our Master!
- But what if you deceive us?

- Adam, take heed!
- What is that voice again?

Only the wind shaking the branches.

You elements, lend aid, arise
Humanity will be your prize.

These two trees are mine!

But who, then, are you?
To all appearances you're just like us.

The world of spirits lies beyond your sight
And man appears to you the very peak

Of God's creation. Dogs seem so to dogs,
They favour you with their companionship.

But just as you despise the dog

And, like a god, control his fate

So we, proud natives of the realm
Of pure spirit, look down on you.

- And you are one of these pure spirits?
- I am,

the mightiest of the mighty,

Who stood beside the throne of God

And had a portion
of his great effulgence.

Then why not stay in the bright heavens,
Why descend into this world of dust?

I grew tired of second place,

Of life's unchanging ordered pace,

The piping choirs, their childish song
Of praise without a word of wrong.

I long for conflict and for strife

To bring new potent worlds to life

Where souls might grow in probity,

Where some brave souls might follow me.

But God said He would punish us
If we stray from our appointed path.

Why should he punish us? If He has set
The path we are to follow, surely He

Will have arranged
that we can choose no other.

Or if sin too is part of His design
As storms are of hot days,

Why blame the roll of thunder more
Than heat which gives us life?

I see we have our first philosopher.
You are the first of many, my fair sister,

Who'll argue the same point
a million ways.

A few of them will end their days in bedlam
Others stop short, none will find a refuge

Do put aside this futile speculation,

Contemplation means the death of action.

- In that case I will pluck the fruit.
- The Lord has put His curse on them.

But pluck.
Whatever happens to us, let it happen.

Let us be wise, like God.

- Above all eternally young.
- This way, this way.

Here is the Tree of Eternal Life,
Now hurry!

Adam, Adam,

you have abandoned me

So I abandon you.

Go, try your strength.

- We're finished.
- You are discouraged?

Not at all.

That shudder was my first awakening.

We're going, Eve.
No matter where, Away!

This place already feels
barren and strange.

So this is mine.

The wide world is behind me.
This plot shall be my home. I'll master it

Defend it from all harm of fowl or brute
Force the field to yield its fairest fruit

And I will build a bower
like that before

To conjure the Eden
that is ours no more.

What potent words
are kin and property,

Like two great levers
that shall move the world,

They will give birth
to every pain and pleasure.

The two ideas will grow continuously
Creating nations and industries,

Begetting greatness and nobility,

Devouring, in time, their own progeny.

You speak in riddles.
You promised wisdom

I put aside instinctive joys,
Prepared to struggle, to be great.

- What for?
- You feel no different?

I feel that

when the Lord abandoned me
thrust me into the desert, empty handed,

I too abandoned him.

My God is me,
Whatever I regain

is mine by right.
This is the source

of all my strength and pride.

What should I thank Him for?
This mere existence?

If mere existence can be justified
The fruits of my exertions must suffice.

In order to take pleasure in plain water
I have to work, feel my thirst the keener.

Each honeyed kiss untunes, the price of that
Is what it brings in tow: leaving us flat.

I try to leap:
my body drags me down,

My eyes and ears refuse to serve me when
I would be prying into hidden knowledge,

And even when imagination raises me

Mere hunger plucks me
down and humbles me,

And makes me descend
once more into base matter.

You have so much to learn yet.
Be prepared

For many disappointments on the way.

It's easy enough
for you to talk of patience

Eternity's vast store
is laid before you.

But I've not tasted of
the Tree of Life;

A thimbleful of time
means I must hurry.

All creatures have
an equal share in time,

The hundred year old tree,
ephemeral flies,

All feel, take pleasure, propagate and die
Having fulfilled their needs,

It is not time that moves,
but we who change.

A century, a day,
it makes no difference.

So never fear,
you too will run your race,

You've seen the anthill,
no doubt, and the beehive:

A thousand workers stumbling to and fro,
Unconsciously they do, they err, they die.

The organism though,
the One, lives on

By instinct shaped into a single mass,

Fulfilling its delineated purpose

Until the day
when everything must end.

You too will come to dust,
it is quite true,

But in a hundred forms you'll live again
And never will you have to start afresh

When you err, your son will bear the blame
Pass on to him your feebleness, your gout

All that you feel, experience and learn
Remains your own throughout a million years

This backward glance
might satisfy an old man:

My heart is young,
its passions are quite different.

I want to see the future, to discover

What I must struggle for,
what I must suffer.

Let me see too, if I am to retain

My charm through all
the changes that remain.

So let it be.

I'll cast a spell on you

And you will see unto the end of time
As in a dream, in fleeting images.

But when you see how foolish
are your aims,

How fierce the war
in which you are engaged,

I'll grant you to prevent you from despair
And to maintain your courage in the battle

A tiny ray of light there in the sky,

That you might think the whole dream
was a mirage. That tiny ray of light

will be called...

Hope.

My lord, your subjects who would gladly shed
Their life-blood for you are concerned to know

What prevents great Pharaoh from enjoying
Tranquil rest upon his pillowed throne?

Why renounce, they ask, the joys of daylight,
The charming dreams and images of night,

Since every honour, every potency
The world can offer is already yours,

As well as all the pleasures
man can bear.

Not one of these things
takes my fancy now,

They are my due, like taxes.
I don't earn them

Through my own exertions
or in heat of battle.

But with this work which occupies me now
I believe I've found the way to greatness.

Nature herself will wonder
at such skill,

And ring my name
down the millennia.

Earthquake or tempest,
nothing can destroy it.

Man has become
more powerful than God.

But Pharaoh, lay your hand
upon your heart and tell me

if this prospect makes you happy.

Ah no, there is

an untold emptiness,

Some awful void.
No matter, it is glory

I want, not happiness.
And glory waits.

If one day you should see through glory
And find it a mere transitory plaything.

- Impossible!
- But all the same.

I'd die
And curse the world to come.

You will see through it,
But you'll not die

in fact you'll start upon a fresh career.
With much the same success.

- My lord, your help!
- It's no use asking him.

How could one who has never felt our pain
Begin to understand it.

How understand.
Why not call me?

My body covers yours and takes the force
Of every blow.

Leave her.

Off with you!

What strange emotion flutters at my heart?
Who is this woman,

and what kind of charm does she possess
that she can drag great Pharaoh

Down to the dust beside her
with its chains?

Another piece of webbing, that is all,

Which God, in mockery,
has wound about you,

So that, when in your vanity,
you play

at butterflies you'll not forget
that you were once a grub.

Ah dearest, how you bleed!
I'll staunch the flow.

Your suffering must be unbearable.

What hurts is life.
Its pain is quickly over.

A slave? Why does he live, to carry stones
And raise his master's pyramid,

to breed his own successor
for the yoke, and die.

A million souls for one.

Oh Lucifer, What awful words,

The babbling of a corpse.

- What was he saying?
- Why should you care, Pharaoh?

It is, indeed, a most important matter
To see the rank of slaves reduced by one.

Only a sum to you,
the world to me.

Merciful heavens,
who will love me now?

Not I, no longer,
you must forget me, woman.

Then I will love you.

Take away the body.

Arise, madam,

your place is on the throne

Your highness, I know too well
that you command the fate of slaves

I do not question it.

But wait.
Give me a little time,

then I am yours.

No, not that word again.

Is everything to come to me
through that one word "command"?

Oh let it be enough that your command
Does not distress me

and do not be jealous of tears
that I must shed for one who is dead.

Peace to the dead
and greetings to the living.

He cannot feel your tears,

but oh I suffer
Agonies without your smile.

What is it, my love?

Oh can't you hear
The people's cry of pain?

It is the first time

I have noticed it.
A sorry music

But come and kiss me

and forget the world.

And you, please put an end
to all this wailing.

I can't do that.

It is the people's birthright,

One that they inherit with the yoke.

Oh lady, you are suffering

and I
Hardly know how to help you.

That cry, like lightning,
Pierces your heart and strikes at my head.

It feels as if the world
were crying out for help.

Oh Pharaoh,
crush me if you will,

But when the people,
that million-limbed creature

Begins to moan under the lash,
then I,

Their exiled daughter,
and a tiny part

Of that great aching body,
feel each cry

Of every pain
they suffer in my heart.

I feel with you...

a million souls for one...

The dead man's words�

Great Pharaoh,
you are melancholy,

It is my fault.
Drive me off

Or teach me to be deaf.

You'd make a finer tutor

For you can teach me
how to hear such pain.

I've had enough.

Oh, liberate the slaves,

What is the point of glory
If it can only be achieved through torture,

Through one man
sacrificing millions

Pharaoh, you are confused.

The masses are mere creatures
of fate, living under sentence.

You'd see them tread the mill
in any system,

Free them now and they'd gain
nothing by your futile gesture

Tomorrow they would seek
another master.

Do you imagine you
could sit astride them

Were they themselves
not anxious to have masters?

If there were
any consciousness in them?

But why this wailing, could it be
the yoke tormented them?

True.. something hurts them,

But what, they could not tell you.
Men seek power

And that is all there is.
It is the spur.

It's not fraternity
that drives the masses

Towards the flag of freedom.
I do not say

They would recognize this. No, they itch
For novelty and spurn a settled order;

They hope to realize in novelty

Their dreams of happiness.

An unplumbed sea

The people:
sunbeams cannot penetrate

Their murky depths.

But one wave scintillates,

A single fleeting brilliance.

A wave like you.

- Why me?
- Or someone like you.

In whom the people's instinct
comes to consciousness,

Some venerated champion of freedom who
dares oust you from your shining realm.

The masses, of course,
never profit by it:

The names may change,
the master still remains.

Your logic runs
in never ending circles

From which there seems
no prospect of escape.

Escape there is.

Present a chosen few with
Necklaces or rings or some such bauble,

And say to them:

I raise you from the crowd,
You are hereby ennobled

they'll believe you,
And looking down on others with disdain

Accept, without demur,
your condescension.

Please spare me all
your specious arguments.

Away with slavery,
let them all go free.

Inform them now, with greatest haste,
Immediately, before I change my mind.

Proceed with all your vanity,
be gone:

You think you act.
It's fate that draws you on.

The work must stop,
unfinished as it is,

The fragments will serve
to humble the ambitious,

A paradox of power and impotence.

Console yourself, my love,
for after all

What earthly use
are pomp and circumstance?

You see, the cries have stopped.

Our courting will be undisturbed.

Lean against my bosom -
What more can you desire?

How restricted
Are your horizons, woman.

And yet this
Precisely is what charms ambitious men

The strong are fated
to desire the weak.

O Pharaoh,

Perhaps, O Pharaoh, I already bore you
With needless, incoherent chattering.

I cannot help it if I am no wiser.

To know what little birds are singing

when they bring
such intimations of delight.

Be but a flower,
be charming bric-a-brac

Of sensuous reverie.
It may be foolish

And yet, I beg you,
satisfy this longing

Let me cast just one intrepid glance

A few millennia hence,

- And know my reputation.
- Can you feel,

Even as you kiss, a light caressing breeze
that touches your face, then flies away?

It leaves the faintest coating
of fine dust.

Next year you'll see it
gathering in creases,

A century,
you plunge your arm in it;

A thousand years,
your pyramids are buried;

Great drifts of sand
obliterate your name;

Your pleasure gardens
fill with cries of jackals;

A race of slaves and beggars
roam the desert.

No fearful cataclysm brings this on,

No thunderstorms or earthquakes
are required;

A breeze, that's all,
the breeze which plays about you.

- A dreadful sight!
- Why worry?

It is only your soul that's lost,

your body stays intact,

And perfectly preserved
for curious schoolboys

To puzzle at your twisted face,
to guess

From scuffed inscriptions
if you're slave or master?

Infernal image!
Get away from me!

Vain strife
and even emptier ambition

The words still ring.

A million souls for one

And so I must emancipate the millions

In one free state.
There's nothing left for it.

Let one man die
providing the state lives

And makes an entity
of single men.

And leave me too,
your own true love?

Yes, you, the throne,
I must leave everything.

Lead on, O Lucifer,
to some new goal.

- I've wasted too much time
in this blind alley. - My Lord...

If you should return
with shattered hopes,

my heart will offer shelter.

Why all this haste?
You'll get there soon enough,

Sooner perhaps
than you had hoped.

Your folly will find you out
and leave you melancholy.

It should be most amusing.
Let's be off.

This way, dear son.
Now look out there

Your father's craft took just that course,
Bound for a war beyond our own frontiers.

But why should father travel all that way
To defend such cowardly and ragged people,

You must not judge
your virtuous father

The curse of heaven lies
on such a child.

We never hear
exciting news these days,

It seems our troops
have failed to find the enemy.

Here at home
the world has grown so sleepy,

Old habits of intrigue
are quite neglected

To put one into execution would give
people's throats at least some exercise.

A dull old life,
but what are we to do?

A little stirring
would not come amiss.

Get off. This pitch is mine.
If I don't speak.

Our country's threatened
and might well be lost.

It's lost each time you do.
Get off, you hireling!

- But you're no hireling,
nobody would hire you! - Dear citizens!

it is with pain I speak,

As it hurts a noble heart to bring
The mighty down to earth;

Drag one such man from his
triumphal car, to face your judgment.

Well begun, you schemer.

Deck the sacrificial beast with garlands
to lead him to the block.

- Get off!
- Why should we listen to this renegade?

However it may hurt me,
I must speak,

Because, O noble
and all-powerful people

I prize you above any general.

This treacherous
and undernourished rabble,

These dogs who lick scraps
from their master's table?

You craven coward,
I don't envy your taste.

The traitor, down with him!

The traitor, down with him!

O Holy Aphrodite, please accept

This smoke of sacrifice
and hear my prayer.

I do not plead for laurel leaves
to bless my husband's brow,

but that his conquering breast
Feel the warmth of homely tenderness.

Hear my charge,
O people!

Great Miltiades betrays
the country.

He is lying! Lying!

Hear me, or later bear the shame
of your remorse.

Down, you scoundrel!

Our youth's flower
is in his hands.

Lemnos he took at one fell swoop,
but now

He loiters at Pharos.
Has been bought off.

- He must be killed!
- That's right, let's hear your voice

Or else be off,
and off my payroll.

What is that noise outside?
Let's see, my son.

It is a traitor
they're condemning, mother.

My heart quakes when a hungry people
Pass judgment on the high and mighty.

The illustrious are dragged through mud
The mob looks on and gloats maliciously,

As if this somehow
justified their filth.

My lord, I'd like to shout,
but I am hoarse.

- Here, go lubricate your throat.
- What should I cry?

Demand the fellow's death.

Kill him! Kill him!

- Who are they baying for?
- Who else but him

who towers a head above his fellow men,
something they can't bear.

Miltiades?
Great heavens!

Old Crispus,
you who were a slave

until my husband freed you,
you call for his death?

Forgive me, lady,

Only one of us may live.

My paymaster helps to maintain
My children; three of them.

Alas, poor Crispus,
That fate should so degrade you.

If you're starving
I forgive you.

But as for you, Thersites,

who snoozed away your
comfortable lives, without a care,

While he, my husband,
beat back enemies

- Oh, you ungrateful people!
- It is indeed a bitter blow, my lady.

But what can we do
in the current mood:

And who would dare to stake
his whole estate

Against such scum,
so hot with agitation!

I now pronounce
the judgment of the people.

I bring you news of danger.
The enemy is at the gates!

Impossible!

Is not our victorious commander
at the head?

Yes, the foe himself.

He heard you plotting and in his heart
there rose a righteous anger.

It's the fire and the sword
for you this time.

- You traitors, you have brought
all this on us! - Destroy them now

- Hurrah for the commander!
- God help us all,

- Let's run wherever we can.
The end is here! - No.

Get before the gates
And render him homage!

By all the gods! The judgment hurt me
when I lost you through it,

Though this reunites us, my dear husband,
How much worse to know it was deserved.

What have you done

that you should beg my pardon?

- What can the strong require
from the weak? - Miltiades,

Why return at all, if I
can take no pleasure in your coming?

I don't understand.
The people crawl before me.

My own wife curses me.

Why come
trailing battalions behind you?

Is this so unbefitting to my rank?

I come as a serious wound prevents me
From exercising all my usual duties.

I come to lay my power
before the feet

Of my commissioners,
the mighty people,

To render up to them
my true account.

You are discharged,
my honourable fellows,

You've earned the sanctuary
of hearth and home.

And as for me, I dedicate to thee,
Pallas Athene,

my sword upon thine altar.

Miltiades, you great and noble man,

Show me a happier woman
than your wife!

Was I not right
to say he was a traitor?

That Darius bribed him?

The wound was a mere sham.

He simply does not wish
to fight in battle.

Then he must die!

What is that noise outside?

Miltiades, such dreadful words.

They still insist
on calling you a traitor.

Ridiculous! I who gained the victory at
Marathon should now be called a traitor.

Why wait? Take him!

Miltiades! This sanctuary
will shield us, stay in there

Why dispense with all your troops?

And why did you not
sack this den of vice?

These guttersnipes
are only fit for shackles;

They realize that
you were born to rule them,

Are nobler than
the lot of them together,

That is why they'd sooner murder you
Than worship at your feet.

You hear her words?
A traitor's wife!

It is a woman's right to shield
her husband even if he is guilty,

How much more when he is innocent as
my lord is, and his foes as foul as you.

O mighty populace! Why let yourself
Be so insulted by her?

- Perhaps she's right.
- Whoever speaks for them is suspect.

Bawl your filthy lungs out
or you'll starve like beasts.

Kill him! Kill him!

Shield the boy,

Don't let him see my blood.

Why strive to live when the idea
of freedom for which I always fought

appears so senseless.

Why hesitate?

Let's kill him. Kill him now!

I cannot bring myself
to curse this rabble,

They're not to blame.

Sheer misery has marked them
down as slaves,

And slavery degrades them to this level.
The bloody tools of puffed-up demagogues.

And only I was fool enough to think

That people such as this

would welcome freedom.

The perfect epitaph!
And it will do

For the tombs of
many great men after you.

Take me away.

I make no further claim
Upon this sanctuary.

I am ready now.

Defend yourself.
Not everything is lost.

This injury would cry out
if I spoke in my defence.

But speak. These very people
Grovelled before you just a while ago.

That is why it's useless.
They won't forgive

The victim of their own depravity.

Then you are disillusioned?

Yes, immensely.

And you admit
you were a nobler master

To foolish crowds like this
than they to you?

Quite possibly,
but both are damnable:

The names have changed,
the outcome is the same.

How vain to fight against it.
From now on. I shall not even try.

Show me a new path, Lucifer.
Lead on,

And I will shake with laughter
at all virtue. And all suffering.

Give me the sensual life.

And you, O woman,

you, who I recall
Once conjured me a bower in the desert,

If you bring up my son a citizen
As honest mothers do,

then you are mad.

The painted girl
who sits in the bordello

With puckered lips,
her passions roused by wine,

Is right to mock you.
Laugh, deny your virtue.

And now the bloody scaffold
for my sins,

Though not for petty crime
but something graver,

For inspiration
by a noble cause.

Deliver the blow,
and long live our great country!

Look, Sergiolus, how lithe and skilful
that scarlet ribboned gladiator is.

- I'll lay odds on the man
to beat his rival. - No, by Hercules.

But why? Who here among us
still believes in gods?

Swear by Julia,
then I might believe you.

By her then

Your vow has sure foundations:

Now one false idol
makes way for another.

But how are we
to understand this vow?

You swear by her beauty, your love of her,
Or rather by her faithfulness to you?

All charm is transient,
it therefore follows

What fascinates today
is dull tomorrow,

I meant her faithfulness. What man has
squandered More on his mistress than I

- on her?
- You clown.

You think you could remain
entwined for ever?

Yes, yes, you're right,
but no more, Hippia.

Why Tantalus like,
are we drawn to pleasures,

Without the strength of Hercules.

But as to your wager?

If I should lose the bet
Then Julia is yours.

- And if you win?
- Your horse is mine.

You take her back next month,
Or I'll throw her in my fish pond.

Look, dear Julia,
at this nice fat fish:

Eat up, eat up,
you'll soon be food for others.

Will not this ugly maggot
feast on you?

Whoever is alive let him rejoice, and
if he can't rejoice then let him laugh.

Now mind to do your best!

Fight like a soldier!

Recipe ferrum! Cowardly mongrel.

I have sufficient slaves,
I'm not a miser.

Dear ladies,
would begrudge you this excitement

Kisses taste so much the sweeter for it;
A little spilt blood sharpens our desire.

The horse is mine.

Come Julia, embrace me.
Kindly remove that corpse

Dancers! Perform some comic interlude,
We've had enough blood for today.

Come here to me. I can't look on for long
While others are embracing.

Your heart is thumping so!
What can it be?

I cannot rest,
it beats so in my ear.

Hear the fool still
blabbering of her "heart".

Look here, my sweet,
I make no claim on yours,

Do with it what you like
but don't tell me,

A good hot kiss will do
for me quite nicely.

How generous, darling!
I raise my glass to you.

Ah what a splendid pirouette that was,

Voluptuous fire
and pleasure all combined!

A ribald song for us.

Whoever knows a good one,
let us hear it.

A man can never have

Too much of wine or love;

Of wine there is profusion,

Each yields its flavour, thrives
On sweet intoxication,

Like sunlight on old graves
They gild our barren lives.

A man can never have
Too much of wine or love;

Of girls there is profusion,
Each casts her spell and thrives,

On sweet intoxication,

Like sunlight on old graves
They gild our barren lives.

Precisely so.
Now Cluvia, your turn.

What a crazy world it was the day

when a comely wife, Lucretia lay
in her lonely bed, not lonely for long,

for an amorous young man
came along�

Alas! the lady wasn�t a whore,

she seized a knife
and her trick was o�er.

Of course, we have more sense today:
have fun and pleasure while we may.

What a crazy world it was the day
when Brutus, keen to have his way,

to put things right as a soldier might,
he buckled his sword and off to fight,

to please the mob, by Jove, he went -
no pleasure to find, but a nasty end.

Of course, we have more sense today:
have fun and pleasure while we may.

What a crazy world it was the day
they acclaimed the hero (or so they say).

But wouldn�t it also raise a cheer,
if a mad hero should still appear?

He would entertain us all, he would:
the show to us - to the beasts the food.

Of course, we have more sense today:
have fun and pleasure while we may.

Why are you moping, Julia?

Everybody else is in good spirits.

- Don't you enjoy lying on my breast?
- Yes

Oh certainly

and yet such merriment
has always left me serious.

The cup of happiness,
however sweet,

Contains one drop of inexpressible pain.

I feel it too.

No more of dancers or songs. I'm sick
Of this eternal sea of sweetness.

My heart requires
something bitter for a change.

Some wormwood in my wine,
a stinging lip,

A sense of danger hovering about me.

What is that cry
that cuts me to the heart?

They're crucifying a few lunatics

Who dream of justice and fraternity.

Serves them right, just sit at home
Enjoy themselves and forget the world?

Why interfere
in other people's business?

The beggar wants
the rich man for his brother,

But let them once change places
and he'd do his share of crucifying.

Leave this subject -
We ought to laugh at misery and death,

Plagues which wreak such havoc in a town
And all tricks of fate the gods dish out.

I see you've lost your humour
in this gloom,

Have you run out of wine or lost your wit
That even sourpuss here has had enough?

One of us here is frightened,
Or else converted.

- Damn you! - Look sharp, you slaves,
and show the fellow in,

We only want to offer him a drink

Drink up! To you today,
to me tomorrow!

Perhaps you would prefer a kiss?

- I dare you steal the obol from his mouth.
- If I can kiss you, then why not him?

Stop it!
You are sucking in the plague.

- The plague! - How horrible!
- Get rid of him!

You wicked generation!

Race of cowards

Tramplers upon virtue, mock at God!
As fortune smiles on you, you are like flies

Importunately buzzing in the sunlight,

But when some peril
hammers at your door,

Or when God's mighty finger touches you

You shrink in fear

and huddle in despair.

Do you not feel the weight
of retribution across your back?

But look, just look around you -

The city perishes and foreign hordes
Tread down your golden harvest.

Rules of Law disintegrate,

There's no commanding voice
And no-one listens.

Robbery and murder are
striding unashamed about your households,

On their heels follow grey anxiety

And terror.

No help, no comfort, either

In earth or heaven.

Will intoxication spirit away
that deep sense of foreboding

That speaks within your heart and
vainly urges you to finer goals?

For I hardly need to add
that satisfaction is beyond you,

That ecstasy awakes only disgust.

You look round terrified,
with trembling lips,

But all in vain.

Your faith in the old gods
Is quite exhausted.

First they petrify

Then turn to dust,

and no new idol comes

Some keener stimulation...
for numbed senses

Some generation!

You shall pass away

In the vast purification of the world.

The pestilence is on me - I am lost!

Oh will not one among you
come to help me,

You with whom I shared
my every pleasure?

To you today,
to me tomorrow, dearest.

In that case kill me
or be cursed by me.

Forgive rather than curse him,

O my daughter,

And I will help you,
as will that great God,

The eternal God of blessed charity.

Aspire unto Him,
with water now

I wash contamination from your soul,
and cleansed...

it flies to him.

Oh, father, I'm at peace.

And I'll set out for Thebais today,

The corruption of the world
disgusts me now.

Wait, Catulus,
I am coming with you.

Still here, what can you want here where
death destroys all forms of happiness?

Is not my place beside you,
where you are?

Ah, Sergiolus!

What wealth of noble feelings
Might you have found hidden in my bosom,

That bosom where you sought
such fleeting pleasures?

And in my own heart.

A pity it is so.

What shame to die in misery
and meanness,

Continually to suffer.

If God lives,

If He has but a thought for us
and rules us,

Then let Him bring new people,
new ideals into the world,

and pour a finer blood

And we have no strength left
To start anew.

O Lord, please hear my prayer

The sight sends
a few shivers up my spine.

But is it not my task
to strive with man?

Whatever I cannot perform he can.

I've witnessed similar capers
in my time,

And once the glory fades
and all is lost

There still remains behind
the bloody Cross.

The Lord has hearkened to you.

Look around

Degenerate earth
is straining for new birth.

Those who in the circus chant their hymns
As ravening tigers tear out their intestines

Announce a new ideal of brotherhood,

The freedom of the individual soul

Ideas that roll like thunder
through the world.

So let it be your aim:
to God the Glory,

To you the labour.

The single soul is free. To bring
to fullness all that lies within it.

And only one commandment binds it:

Love.

Rise, to battle, rise then
in the fervour of new faith,

And create another world.

How seemly for a man,

How brave it is
To enthuse over impossibilities.

Such pious tendencies
please the Creator,

And I'm in favour too.
Despair comes later.

Here they come,
a fresh host of barbarians!

Let's run and bar
the entrances against them

- in case they rob us again.
- Away with the women:

These guttersnipes enjoy
the pleasures of the harem.

As our girls are
with rights of conquerors.

Stop right there.
Why run away;

Can't you see the holy standard which
unites all, like brothers, in one cause?

We took our creed of love,
to Asia.

We've heard this speech before:
Our houses were soon blazing all the same.

Here you may see
the cursed fruit of evil;

This happens when so many brigands
With base motives wave the sacred flag

Your great ideals
are all reduced to this.

It was for this,
the bloodshed in the Circus,

For this franchisement of the individual?
A wondrous species of fraternity!

Have you no faith in nobler things?

The sacred doctrines!
The very things that damn you

You chop them so fine,
sharpen them so neatly,

Refine them, twist them that,
they drive you mad or turn to fetters

Dear friends, my men are tired
and they need shelter

And surely in the capital of
Christendom, they do not ask in vain.

The question is, are you a heretic?
That's worse than being a pagan.

Do you believe
In Homousion or Homousion?

- I don't understand.
- Refuse to tell them which.

- He hesitates. A heretic all right.
- Have nothing to do with them,

A curse on anyone
who gives them shelter.

Astonishing. But who is that great prince
Approaching us, so proud and arrogant?

The Patriarch.
The heir of the apostles.

And those ugly bare-foot underlings
Who wear a false cloak of humility

And take such pleasure
pursuing the group in chains?

They're Christian cynics, friars.

A virtue born of pain
and self abasement,

As commanded by
your Master on the Cross.

But he employed them
for the world's redemption

These cowards here
are committing blasphemy.

I am like Thomas:
I see but can't believe.

O Father,
We are Knights of the Holy Sepulchre,

Exhausted by our journey we need rest
But no one in the city will accept us,

You who have authority
could help us.

My son, I fear I have no time
to deal with petty things.

God's Glory and my flock
Require my services.

I must pass judgment on heretics who
sow their poison and spread like weeds.

With fire and sword we prune them
But hell returns them to us every time

If you are truly soldiers of Christ
why seek the distant Saracen?

Here you'll find more fearsome foes.
Arise then,

Assault their strongholds,
root them out,

The old, the women,
every girl and boy.

Those harmless ones?
You cannot wish that, Father.

A snake is harmless too while it is young
Then again once it has lost its fangs

But would you spare it?

A vile sin indeed to rouse such
passionate anger in the Church of Love.

My son, love is not that
Which panders to the body,

but that which guides the spirit home
by fire or sword if need be.

To Him who said:
I came not to bring peace

But war unto the world.

These wicked infidels
Proclaim the idea of Homoiusion

In the mystic doctrine of the Trinity

Although the True Church

has declared the doctrine
Of Homousion an article of faith.

The fire is burning,
to the stake with them!

My friends, concede
that single letter, "i"

And you can make a nobler sacrifice

- Crusading for the Holy Sepulchre.
- Satan, lead us not into temptation.

We bleed, as God ordained,
for the true faith.

- Impertinence! To boast of the true faith
- Is not the synod of Rimini with us,

- And countless others?
- They were all misled.

Did not Nicea and other
orthodox synods take our part?

I say to you, you are great Babylon,

That whore described by St John in his book
Who'll perish in the full sight of the world

The seven-headed Beast, the Antichrist!
St John knew all about you, what you are

You curs and frauds,
companions of the devil!

You thieves, you snakes,
you profligates, you gluttons...

Away with them, away.

Don't waste your time.

Glory to God
and to the stake with them.

Glory to God!
Well said, you foul corruption.

Already the hours of folly
have been counted.

From our spilt blood
fresh warriors will rise,

The idea survive,
and that fierce flame which leaps

About us will shed light
for centuries to come.

My friends, arise

to death and glory!

My God, My God
why hast thou forsaken me?

why art thou so far from helping me

and from the words of my roaring?

O my God, I cry in the daytime,
but thou hearest not;

and in the night season,
and am not silent.

But thou art holy...

Plead my cause, O Lord,
with them that strive with me:

Take hold of shield and buckler,
and stand up for mine help.

Why stand so silently?
Why are you trembling?

You think this is a tragedy. Regard it
As comedy instead: it will amuse you.

O do not joke about it!

That one can die
So resolutely for the letter "i".

What then can we call
sublime or noble?

Whatever seems ridiculous to others.

The thickness of a hair
divides the two

Only an inner voice can judge between them,
And this close magistrate is sympathy

Which sanctifies or murders
with its mockery.

Why did I live to see such wickedness,

This skirmish in
the proud domain of knowledge,

This deadly poison, masterfully extracted
From the freshest most brilliant of flowers?

I Knew it once
when it was in full beauty,

At the testing time,
when faith was persecuted.

What miscreant has wasted it
and ruined it?

It's victory herself
that is to blame,

Breeding division,
serving a hundred interests.

Defeat unites
and propagates her martyrs

And gives such heretics their fortitude.

I think I'd sooner throw away my sword
And go back to my homeland in the North

If only an inner voice
did not keep whispering

That I would have

to recreate that age.

A vain endeavour.

You can never set
The individual soul against the age.

Time is a stream that bears or covers you
A man may swim in it but not direct it.

Those whom the historians call great
Are those who understood their century

And never entertained original thought.

Dawn does not come
because the cocks are crowing:

The dawn comes first,
then cocks begin to crow.

Those people there in chains,

who hasten on to martyrdom
while insults rain on them,

See but one set of footprints leading onward
It's from their ranks that new ideas arise

They die for thoughts which
their descendants breathe

Freely in with the common air.

Come, Crusaders, buy the saving doctrines
Repentance, the answer to all questions.

It tells how long
the murderer, the lecher,

The temple desecrater, and false witness
are doomed to suffer in the fires of hell.

It also teaches how the rich may gain

A year's remittance through
the payment of 20 solidi,

while the poor pay three, and those
who lack the means may earn their pardon

By enduring a thousand lashes
of the whip.

Who'll make a purchase
of this splendid book? Come buy!

- One here.
- And one here, holy father.

The merchant's bad,
the customers are worse.

I beg your pardon,
this friar is an old friend.

And I have little quarrel
with his kind,

Save me, conqueror!

You are safe here. Raise those
lovely eyes. Tell me what has happened.

You have saved me, Knight,
how shall I thank you?

Are not your words
reward enough for me?

Not even such a poor reward for me?

What debt of gratitude
do I owe you?

Do you imagine that this noble knight
Intended to save you too? What vanity!

If a knight happens
to rescue a fair lady

The squire is deemed
to save the lady's maid.

Either I am grateful
And end up in the same spot as before,

Or ungrateful,
and facing equal danger.

Those four crusaders
weren't at all bad looking.

O lady, command me.
Where shall I escort you?

The convent doors
are directly before us.

Debar me from my hope,
O say they cannot!

Give me some favour
to wear upon my cross

Take this ribbon.

Darker than night itself?

O lady, give me hope,
give hope, not sorrow.

This is my favour.
I can give no other.

Hope is not bred
behind the doors of convents.

Neither is love.

And how could there not be love
Where you are, lady!

What you are wearing shows
You have not yet taken the veil.

Do not torment me further
with your questions

It hurts me so to see you suffering.

- Will you too be immured
within those walls? - I will,

but the key has not been thrown away.

My father, like you,
was himself a knight

No hope remained of flight,
and so he swore

to the Blessed Virgin, if he should escape
he'd offer me, a mere child then to her,

He has returned

and I, to keep his oath,
Have taken the sacrament.

O blessed mother!
Embodiment of love at its most pure,

Did you not turn affronted
from this scene of blasphemy,

this stain upon your virtue, which
turns the grace of Heaven to a curse?

My lord, do hurry. You can't say farewell
And I cannot avoid making a conquest.

But that cannot prevent me
loving you!

O Tancred, I am weakening,
I must go.

God be with you,
we will meet in heaven.

God go with you!
I won't forget this day.

And you, you coward,
must I do everything?

The key is not in the ocean,
you will find it at my window.

The madness of our sex
Amazes me!

For once we break the chains
Of prejudice we set off in pursuit

With wild abandon. If we leave the chains
Intact we go in fear of our own shadows

Depriving us and others
of their pleasure.

Is there no middle way?
I cannot see what harm there can be

in some brief encounter
Discreetly managed,

A woman, after all, is not a spirit.

Oh, Helena, look out,
is he still waiting?

How could he have departed
quite so lightly.

If only I could hear him speak again.

Aren't you afraid
when you look up at the night,

Aren't you afraid
of falling under its spell?

All this exists in me like a faint dream

Come down from heaven
to haunt me on the earth;

Waves of sweet music
are flooding through the air,

But they no longer speak to us,

And why, oh why should
this foul wall divide us?

Often have I breached pagan ramparts,
Should I not breach these walls as well?

The spirit of the age
defends these walls

- And it is stronger than you.
- Who says so?

- O Lord have mercy!
- A dreadful hymn!

It is your wedding march.

So let it be, but I am not afraid.
For you, my love, I would dare anything.

Tancred

Arise! Your paramour
has slammed the window;

why stand here all night?

The wind blows cold,
you'll catch a chill.

Lead on, lead on to new life, Lucifer!

I took to arms for
great ideals but found

Their application wicked and accursed,

I wanted to ennoble all our pleasures

But man has branded
sweet delight with shame.

Henceforth set my soul on fire,

The world may go
about its business as it pleases,

I shan't attempt
to change its course again

But shall gaze with equanimity upon
Its foibles.

I'm exhausted.

I need rest.

Rest then.

But I hardly dare believe your restless
spirit will let you rest for long.

Adam...

Follow me.

Another fellow getting nicely warm

- A witch or heretic this time?
- Who knows?

It's so unfashionable to enquire,

Only the riff-raff
gather round the fire.

We had festivals for such things.
The court, all noble bloods was there.

Alas, the good old days
don't last for ever.

It's nice to have a fire
on such chill nights,

I must admit
that I've got used to it,

I fear, however, it must go out soon.

It won't be dowsed
through manly resolution,

Nor through enlightened liberality,

But indifference in an age
when no one's left

To throw logs on the fire.
So I go cold.

All great ideals tend to meet their nemesis
Through petty errors in their premises.

Kepler, draw up my horoscope for me,

I had a bad dream last night and I fear
My star is in conjunction with some evil

Omen appearing in its radiance.
By the Snake's head. I've seen it before.

All will be done, my lord,
as you command.

When once the days of the climacteric
Are past we will commence on our new work

Which would have failed
had we begun today.

I looked again through Hermes Trismegistus,
Synesius, Albertus, Paracelsus,

The Key of Solomon and other books
Before I found the error we had made.

But we had overlooked Damp Fire,
And Arid Water,

and therefore failed to effect The Sacred
Knot, which should have crowned our efforts

With the elixir that
rejuvenates old veins

And transmutes base metal
into rarest gold.

- I understand, your highness.
- One word more.

I hear disturbing rumours in the court

That you have espoused new ideas,

And take a sieve to
the doctrines of the Holy Church;

Further, while your mother is imprisoned
And facing the grave charge of sorcery,

You will certainly arouse suspicion

by agitating so persistently
And publicly for her release.

My lord,
She is my mother after all!

The Holy Church, my son,
is more truly your mother,

Forget the world:

whatever is, is right;
Do not attempt to tinker with its works.

Do I not shower all my gifts on you?

Your father, as you well know,
kept an inn

And I raised you
to high rank beyond dispute

Though not without
some difficulty, mind.

It's through your elevation to my throne

That you have gained
the hand of Barbara M�ller.

And that's why I repeat,

take care my son.

The astrologer
is deep in thought again.

He's for ever careworn,
the poor fellow.

He cannot acclimatise
to this new sphere:

The peasant in him
will keep slipping out.

Off with you, sir,
for God's sake pity me

Or I shall die with laughing
at your jokes.

But look, here are
two po-faced gentlemen.

Have you two men by any chance imbibed
That damnable new innovative spirit?

Oh out of my sight!
I really cannot stand

their spleen and envy
and their gloomy notions.

Reproaching this world's brilliant calm
Contemplating other ways of life.

We plead Not Guilty to the charge,
dear lady.

Who'd wish for change,
graced by your good presence.

But if I'm not mistaken there I see
A man with signs

- of worry on his face.
- My poor husband?

Gentlemen, for God's sake

To please me, eliminate him from your
suspects, for we are bound by sacred ties

and he is ill, quite ill.

An invalid, perhaps,
to your bright eyes?

Indeed! And does he dare,
as no one would

Insult you with his envy and suspicion?

If only I could be your knight, I'd fling
My gauntlet in the wretched fellow's face.

My dear professor,
I'm so pleased to see you,

I want to take a trip to my estates
And I need a weather forecast.

I'd like a horoscope drawn for my son,

Born yesterday,
a little after midnight.

Both will be done
by morning, gentlemen.

The party is breaking up,
we too should go.

Your staircase, madam.
I must bid you good night.

- An hour from now.
- The far side of the arbour.

Good night, gentlemen.

Johann, my dear,
I'm rather short of money.

I haven't a farthing,
you've had everything.

Must I suffer this eternal penury?
Ladies of the court strut like peacocks,

and I am ashamed
To be seen among them.

Whenever some lord bows
and tells me, full of smiles,

That I'm the queen of the whole company,

I blush, that you permit your queen to
attend the court in such a shabby outfit.

Do I not wear myself out,
night and day?

I prostitute my knowledge
for your sake,

Polluting it with useless weather forecasts
And drawing up of useless horoscopes.

I hide the truth I recognize at heart
And propagate what I know to be false.

I do it all for you,
to win your favour.

What should I do with
the wages of my sin

Since I require nothing in this world

Except the night
and all its glimmering stars,

Only the hidden harmony
of the spheres?

- The rest is yours. - You dare
reproach me with your sacrifices!

Have I not sacrificed enough for you?

When I, the daughter of a noble family,

Staked my whole future
on your dubious rank,

Was it not through me you were accepted
in polite society? Deny it, wretch.

Are science and spirit then
of dubious rank?

That beam of heavenly light upon my brow,
Is that indeed of shady pedigree?

What nobility can stand beside it?

Oh woman,
If only you could understand me.

If only our souls were kindred spirits
As once I thought when we first kissed,

You would be proud of me

and would not seek your happiness
outside my sphere of being;

You would not parade
all that is sweet in you

Before the world,

and save all that is bitter
For home and hearth.

Oh woman,
how I loved you!

And love you still,

but O how bitter is

I'd tear my heart out

And divorce you however it hurt,
if I could find some peace,

And you too might
be happier without me;

But there again
we come up against custom:

Authority,
commandments of the Church,

So we must bear each other
till we die

Dear Johann

don't take it so to heart
If now and then I say things out of turn,

I don't want you to fall into despair.

Look, the Court is such a splendid place,
The ladies are so haughty and sarcastic,

How could I begin to argue with them?

You're not so angry with me anymore?

Good night.

Remember - money in the morning.

What a miraculous mixture
of high and low is woman.

Is woman, a blend
of nectar and pure poison.

Then why does she attract us?

She is good in herself:

The age that gave her birth
Has made her evil.

- Hey, apprentice!
- Paracelsus, master?

A weather forecast and a horoscope are
needed. Prepare the things immediately.

Something brilliant and glittering,
no doubt:

Who'd pay good money
for unvarnished truth?

Cruel hearted creature,
How long you've kept me suffering.

Such a great sacrifice for you
To put up with a chill breeze of evening

While I betray
a good and noble husband!

For you I defy the curse of heaven
And attract the censure of society.

Neither heaven's curse,
nor society's censure

pierces the darkness of this grove.

I longed for an age
which had no need of struggle,

Where no one upset
the settled scheme of things

Or interfered
with all its hallowed customs,

Where I could rest

and smile indifferently

Contains a soul,
that sacred, painful heirloom

Obtained from heaven by man who is a fool
Which longs to act and will not let him rest

Which leaps to combat
with his sluggish pleasures.

Apprentice! Bring wine,

I'm shivering,

I'll have to set
this arctic world ablaze.

An age of midgets
calls for some Dutch courage

To wash away the dirt
which clings to us

Open, open up, infinite heavens,

Your hidden sacred volumes
to my sight!

If only I could learn your laws

I might forget the age
and everything around me.

You are eternal,
everything else passes,

You raise me up
while all else drags us down.

Oh, Barbara,
if only you were mine!

If only God would
take away your husband

So he might see heaven all the clearer,
Which he spends his life observing.

Hush sir, or
I'll pity the poor creature

So dreadfully my tears
might stop my kisses.

Oh for a time

to melt this frozen order,

To confront its worn out lumber
with new vigour,

To rise like a judge,
to punish or reward

Not to shrink from drastic measures

or from pronouncing the mystic word,

which like an avalanche

Would thunder down its destined course

and crush the very man perhaps
who uttered it.

I hear it now,
the anthem of the future,

I've found the word,
that mighty talisman

To revive the ancient world
in all its freshness.

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!

And death to those
who fail to recognize them!

I quite agree. Two battlecries preserve
Our great ideal from universal menace,

One we address to those good souls
we trust: "France is in danger",

and that wakes them up,

The other we must
thunder out to traitors:

It is but one word,
"Tremble",and they perish.

These rose up kings against us

and we threw a head to them,
a head of state - the king's;

The priests rose up against us, and
we wrested the lightning from their hands

and reinstated reason,.

We have eleven armies at the front

A constant stream of brave young men
To fill the gaps left by our fallen heroes

Who says madness and the lust for blood
Must decimate our country in due course?

You smelt the ore,
the dross is drained away,

The better part remains, is purified.

And what if here and now
we call for blood

Let them think us monsters,
I don't mind,

Providing France be powerful and free.

We only ask for arms
and one to lead us!

That's right, that's right!
You only call for arms

Despite the fact
that you lack all things else:

Your clothes are ragged
and your feet are naked,

With bayonets though
you'll make up your losses

Because you'll win.
The people can't be conquered.

One general has just been executed

For leading our brave soldiers
to defeat.

- The traitor!
- Yes, you're right.

The people have
No treasure but their blood

which they shed nobly
And prodigally for their country's sake

Whoever has the nation's sacred treasure

At his command and fails
to conquer all is deemed a traitor.

Put me in his place then, citizen.
I'll wipe out his disgrace.

Your confidence is honourable, friend.
Before we place such trust,

You must deserve it
on the field of battle.

That trust lives in my soul. I too
possess a head, worth as much or more

than that which has just fallen.

Who'll guarantee you'll bring it
if I ask?

What better guarantor could you desire
Than I myself who hold my life as nothing?

That's not the way
that most young people talk.

But citizen,
I ask you just once more

Have patience,
you have time to reach your goal.

I see you do not trust me. You must
learn to think better of me, citizen.

A pity.
He deserved the opposition's bullet.

Take him away, my friends.
We'll meet again once victory is ours.

Oh how I wish
That I could share your fate.

But my lot is to struggle
Without glory

my death in action yields
No honour but a foe

who plots and watches and lies
in wait for me and hallowed France.

Point him out to us and he shall die!

The one I could point out
is dead already.

The suspects? Those under
suspicion are already guilty,

The instinct of the people is infallible,
a prophet.

Treason laughs and whets its blade
On benches at the heart of the Convention.

To the Convention then,
it still needs purging!

The Convention can come later,
Practise on the prisons in the meantime.

While we do, prepare a list
of all the traitors, Danton.

Behold!

Another pair of young aristocrats:

Their proud faces, this fine white linen
Are clear proofs of their guilt!

A noble couple.

Step up here, young people.

I do not understand what draws me to you
But I will risk my life to save you both.

No, Danton, If we indeed are guilty and
you excuse us, then you are a traitor:

If we are not
we don't require your mercy.

Who are you to talk like this to Danton?

- I am a marquis.
- Wait

Are you aware
Our one form of address is Citizen?

I'm not aware His Majesty the King
Has abolished titles.

Hold your tongue, you fool.
But join us and a new career awaits you.

I have no royal permit, citizen,
To join a foreign army.

- Then you'll die. - Then I will
swell the ranks of my relations

Who gave their lives
defending the King's cause.

So you defy me? Good.

I'll rescue you.

A future and more tranquil generation
In whom the spirit of faction turns to ashes

Will praise me for this.
National Guard!

Take him to my house,
look after him.

Be strong, my brother!

And God protect you, sister!

Here is a head,
no worse than Roland's was.

Let not such hard words
pass your tender lips.

More tender words
do not become a scaffold.

This dread contraption
is my daily business.

When you appeared on it a piece of heaven
Alighted there and locked me in its sanctum

Even the priests refrain from mockery
As sacrificial beasts are herded past them

It is I who am the sacrifice,
believe me.

I long for the relief of loving someone.

If only for a day you could instruct me

Oh woman, if only for a day you could
instruct me in this heavenly science,

Lay my head on the block
the morning after.

In a world of terror
you still look for love

Have you no conscience left
to terrify you?

To possess a conscience is the privilege

Those who are led by fate
Have little enough time for introspection

I feel my heart is somehow bound to yours
Is this so difficult to understand?

And if I did, what then?

You're led by one god,
My heart is given to another.

How could we ever
understand each other!

Abandon your outmoded concepts then,

Why sacrifice yourself
to exiled gods?

Neglected altars
may still claim their martyrs.

Oh Danton, it is nobler to preserve
And tend a ruin lovingly

than hail a rising power.

Grant me one ray of hope,
I beg of you.

When once beyond the grave
your soul finds peace,

Shakes off the bloody dust
of our own age

Then perhaps...

Don't, don't go on, dear girl,

I've no belief in such an afterlife,

I struggle on with fate
in no such hope.

Justice is done!

What, you're still alive?

And now she's dead.

Ah fate, who can resist you?

Now on to the Convention.
Lead us, citizen

Have you prepared
the list of traitors' names?

Danton, look at this conspirator

He would have killed you
but I killed him first.

If he could have performed
my duties better you did badly

- If not, you've done well.
- Oh I've done well,

and I want my reward: I want
to spend a night with you, great man.

What a miraculous likeness!

One's sanctity protected her from me,

But this repels me
with the stench of hell. -

What are you muttering to yourself?

I'm counting and find I have fewer nights
Remaining than are traitors in the country

On to the Convention,
name the culprits!

How could he name them?
He is the arch traitor.

You dare accuse me, Saint-Just!
Don't you know how powerful I am?

You were.
The people made you so.

But they are wise, they know

And sanctify the word
of the Convention.

I recognize no higher authority

Than the people.
The people are my friends.

Your friends are the opponents
of the country.

The noble people
will pass judgment on you.

Before them all I charge you, traitor:

With embezzlement of state funds,

sympathy with aristocracy,

and lust for power
Of the most tyrannical, despotic kind.

Take care, Saint-Just, my words will strike
you down. Your charges are all false!

Don't let him speak -

You know his tongu
is cunning as a serpent's.

- Arrest him in the name of Liberty.
- Ignore him,

- Let him perish!
- Ignore him!

Don't listen then,

but neither shall I hear
your accusations.

We shan't convince each other
with speeches,

neither shall your actions sway me.

Robespierre, you have simply anticipated
me, no more, don't boast of it.

I myself lay down my arms...

Enough.

I take this occasion
though to summon you

To follow me

before three months are out.

Look sharp, headsman,
for you dispatch a giant.

Where am I,

and where are all my dreams?

They've flown
with your intoxication, sir.

Are times so low
that only drunkenness

Can rouse my ageing breast
to dreams of greatness?

However it's defaced
with blood and grime,

The good and evil
on such vast proportions

That both of them appeared miraculous.

It was the stamp of power
that amazed me.

Why did I wake?
So I should see this age

Of dwarfishness confirmed,

which masks corruption

with its smiles and lying manners.

You feel flat, I know the state of mind
It's just the morning of the night before

Be off with you.
My suspicions were well founded.

You dare suggest to me

to kill my husband! You think that I, your
so-called idol, should descend so low?

Collect yourself; Think of the scandal
if we should be heard.

I see.
For you the scandal is what matters!

I never want to see you again, now go!

This is too much.

We'll meet again and smile, and even flirt
Never mention what has passed between us

Good morning, madam!

Miserable wretch!

But here I am with all my sins

and tears.

A dream, that's all it was,
and now it's over.

But not quite everything.

Ideas are stronger
Than fallen matter.

One can be destroyed
by violence,

the other is eternal.

And I can see my own ideas growing

Progressively purer,
gaining nobility,

However slowly,
till they fill the world.

The sun is rising.
Time for your lecture, sir.

Your youthful audience arrives, impatient
To glean your words of scientific wisdom

I don't teach them, I only keep them busy
With words which they don't understand.

No sense of what to do or not to do.
Ignorant people tend to gawp and think.

We conjure up some spirit
with fine words,

The whole thing is a trick
and nothing more

To hide the clever work of charlatans.

So here I am,

heart shaking with desire
to pry into the laboratory of nature.

To grasp it all and to enjoy it better,

You want too much.
A mere speck in the world,

How could you see
the splendour of the whole?

Whichever mystery you choose to solve,
Great scientist,

I'm sure to gain by it,

Since I so keenly feel my ignorance.

Very well then,

I see that you are worthy,

And I will lead you to the utmost altar

To see the truth
as I myself conceive it.

We can't,
be overheard by common students?

The truth is terrible
and could be lethal

If the people were
to hear about it now.

There'll come a time,
would it were here already

When all this will
be spoken in the streets,

But not until the people come of age.

Just what was it you said before,
my boy?

I said I did not understand a thing.

Neither do I,

nor anyone else, believe me.

Philosophy is just the poetry of those
things that we can't yet comprehend.

And there stands folly, ever vigilant,

Obstructive in the name of piety,
The guardian of whatever powers may be.

I see.

And will it always be so?

No, one day
they will laugh at all of this.

The statesmen whom we now consider great,
The orthodox at whom we gawp in wonder,

Will then appear as mere comedians,

And genuine greatness
will assume their place:

The simple man, the man of nature,

he who only leaps
when he perceives a ditch

Or takes a road
once he can see it clear.

And science, which now often leads to
madness by virtue of its tangled threads,

will then be understood by all
though learned by none.

This then is that clear, simple language
The apostles must have spoken.

But even if the rest
is nothing but mere useless lumber,

Don't rob me of my faith in art,

Even in art the true perfection lies in
concealing art from the observer's eyes.

What should I do then, master?

Have I sacrificed
so many nights to science

To attain only this parity with fools?

Have I wasted all my time
without reward?

No, for this alone gives you the right
To reject all its temptations and advances

So take these yellow folios and parchments
Throw the mildewed things onto the fire.

They stop us standing
on our own two feet,

Prevent us thinking for ourselves,
transmit accumulated errors of the past

Now, out into fresh air.

Together we will
take leave of the school.

Your golden youth
should lead you to the joys

Of songs and sunlight;
as for me, lead on

My cynical guardian spirit,
to the world that is to be,

That is to be,
providing it can grasp

providing it can grasp
great men's ideals,

and let our hidden thoughts

Speak freely above
the cursed dust of ruins.

Life's an ocean, roaring, tidal,
Every breaker bears a world,

One flung upward, one dragged downward,
Who cares which way they are hurled?

You fear now for the individual
Engulfed by masses,

For millions of vanquished subjects
Ground under the tyrant's heel.

You fear for Poetry the one day,
The state of Science ruins the next,

Lock the waves up in your system,
Bind the breakers in a text.

Let it thunder, life will govern
the strands of her domain.

Nothing's lost, however many
Battles she may fight.

The years pass
and leave her ever youthful:

Her siren voice attends your ears.

This is the world
I always hungered for,

But now the way lies clear
in front of me,

I hear the cheerful song
of competition.

Like hymns it sounds good
from a certain height,

All croaks and sighs and moans
are sweetly mingled

And sound delightful
once they reach us here.

God hears it this way too,

and that is why he thinks
his world is such a great success.

Down there, however,
it sounds rather different,

There you can hear
the beating of its heart.

You sceptical old mocker,

isn't this a finer world
than those you've dragged me through?

The overgrown retaining walls
have crumbled,

Ghosts once showered with honours
now have gone,

Free competition opens up the road,

No pyramids,
nor slaves to bear the load.

What we have now is a vast level plain.

What peaks attract us?
Or what depths? What fears?

Where is life's variety and sweetness?

No shining floods,
no tussling with the sea

It's all mud flats,
a colony of toads.

We have the common good
for compensation.

I'm happy to descend
to the new world,

I do not doubt that I will rediscover
Ideals and poetry within its waves.

It may well be that they no longer rend
The sky in open and titanic struggle,

But in their modest way they may create
A world that is more human, more attractive

This way, this way, my fine gentlemen,
The performance will begin in half a minute

The piece is a delightful comedy

In which you'll see the Serpent
as he tempts our mother Eve,

Succeeds in bringing down
her husband Adam.

Step this way, this way,
my fine gentlemen!

Hear that, Adam?
They're talking about us.

How nice to have a part
that 3,000 years on

Still has the youngsters
rolling in the aisles.

How come you're in
the front row of the stalls,

Only those who are tired of life and ready
to hang themselves, give shows for free.

Sweet violets...

The first, sweet violets,

Those weeds are always our competitors
We can never drive them out of fashion.

Drink up, my lads,

don't mourn for yesterday,
Tomorrow is a shore man never reaches,

The Lord provides
for all his little sparrows,

And all is vanity,
the good book teaches.

Now this philosophy appeals to me.
Let's take a seat on this nice shady bench

And see how cheaply
men amuse themselves

With sour wine
and a bit of jangling music.

I tell you those machines are devil's work
Snatching bread out of our very mouths.

As long as there's enough to drink,
forget them.

It's those devils, the rich,
who suck our blood.

If a rich man turned up now
I'd give him hell.

We should take action,
like we did before.

What use is that? You'd hang before the day
Was out, and we'd go on the same old way

What can I fetch you, sir?

- Why, nothing, thank you. - Off with
you, you pair of good-for-nothings!

Or do you think I live
on stolen earnings,

Let's go - why waste our time observing
Mankind degenerating into brutes.

It's my pitch this,
I've got a licence for it.

Have pity on me or I die. It's over
A fortnight since I lost my steady job.

In that case you can't be a genuine beggar
Be off, you bungler, or I call the law

Alms for Christ's sake

Give alms, good masters,

to the suffering!

Be off, you peasant! Do you
fancy yourself As something special?

- You might be right. You might find out
- Don't touch him.

Let him be.
He has the lot, the power and the glory.

But why drive home the point
with such contempt?

Hasn't the leech
sucked too much blood already?

The golden apple had been won
From the dragon long ago,

On trees a thousand apples grow
But where have all the dragons gone?

You're crazy if you stand and stare
Too scared to grab what's hanging there.

Why do you waste your talent
on this rubbish!

Do you like
what you are playing?

Like it? Good Heavens, no!

Endless torture
Grinding out this stuff from day to day,

To see men dance
and hear them bawl for more.

This awful racket even haunts my dreams.
But what can I do? How else can I live?

Take a look at this, my dear young lady!
You won't find better prices anywhere.

Don't you believe it, he'll sell you short
Second rate goods. Step this way, lady!

Young lady, be so kind as to accept this
sweetmeat from my hand: it bears my heart

How kind, dear Arthur,
to remember me.

How long since we last met;
why don't you visit?

Arthur's parents are wealthy enough,
it's true, but I don't know

how they regard his friendship
with you, dear.

Take care not to discourage other suitors
Like that boy who sent flowers this morning

Ladies, do allow me to escort you, and
shield you from the milling of the crowd

- Impertinence!
- Be off, importunate!

Do you think my daughter the sort
Men can proposition in broad daylight?

I've often dreamed
of this most perfect woman.

Your dreams are your affair,
dream what you like;

My daughter's charms are not intended
For ragamuffins such as you, my man.

Ah precious lady, world's delight,
Show your tiny hand so white.

Your happy fate you may behold,
And gild your life a thousandfold.

Looking at her palms
I see a handsome husband

wealth, a host of children
and sound health.

Cousin, do tell us something
of my friend.

I can't see clearly,
hunger or the rope.

Don't dismiss me
from your presence,

I feel your heart
was made to join with mine.

- Mother, you cannot permit this -
- Go away, or I'll call the police.

O poetry, are you to disappear

Completely from this too prosaic world?

By no means!
Why, what is this gingerbread,

This bunch of flowers,
this dancing and this garden

But poetry? Be less choosy:

You'll find dream-fodder
enough to occupy your mind.

What use is that when opportunism
And greed lurk in their midst,

And nobility are nowhere to be found.

They still exist at school,
in the old classroom,

The life there is not all economy,
Not yet. Look, here come a few such lads

Cheer up lads, now for some fun.
No more chalk dust, school is done.

But not in town. I do hate all its
rules and shops and tradesman's stalls.

Let's pick a fight with someone then.
It's more exciting, live like men!

Brilliant, shock the philistines.

There's a fine sight
in a world gone flat.

You'll see what becomes of that small germ
Once it has shaken off the classroom dust.

Two industrialists are approaching.

They were much the same
as those lads in their youth.

It's quite impossible, I can't compete,
As everyone demands the cheapest goods,

I must drop
the quality of my produce.

We'll have to lower
the workers' rates of pay.

But they're all still up in arms, saying
they can't afford to live, the dogs;

There may be a spark of truth in that,
But, who told them to get married,

- Who tells them get half a dozen children?
- Then we must take a firmer grip on them

They should labour in the plant
for half the night

And the other half quite rest enough, as
their dreaming their serves little purpose

Away with them!
Why did you let me see them.

And tell me
where that girl has disappeared to?

Show your power now, Lucifer,
assist me

- And make her listen to me.
- Then so be it.

but control your feelings.

And so you see, my lord,
how inadvisable

It is to go disguised among the people,

If only these men knew four of our ships
Have but today returned from India,

This nugget should be worth
a pretty penny.

A word with you, you came disguised so
I punished you with forecasts of ill fortune

Since, as you know, you cannot keep a secret
From one who is an old chum of the devil.

You're all I need,
you ancient harridan!

A beautiful girl
is pining for your love.

How should I win her?

You'll see she'll come back
in a little while.

Remember then
the fortune-teller's words.

Lucifer, this old girl
will outflank you,

Get out of my way.
I demand respect,

This head of mine has grown grey
in pursuit of knowledge,

in the ceaseless quarrying
of nature's hidden secrets.

Who is this
remarkable popinjay,

Science, who has turned showman to survive
The very science you studied in the past,

Now needs to make
a rather louder noise.

Labouring long for the benefit of mankind
Behold, I bring the fruits of my physic:

This little phial contains the true elixir
Restores youth to the aged and sick.

The very drug the pharaohs
used to swear by,

Tancred's magic potion,

Helen's balm
That made her beautiful,

and Kepler's secret.

Do you hear what he is selling?

The light we sought in years to come
he seeks in days gone by.

The present age never receives due honour:
As in his bedroom no man's fame bears study

It's like the wife we wed ten years ago,
We've counted every blemish on her body.

Whoever buys, come, you won't regret it,
If you don't buy it now you might not get it

It will do quite nicely. I'll buy it.
Even though it's pricey.

You see these people,
sceptics to a man,

And yet they'll grab
what miracles they can.

Your words are useless:
we know what you are.

So curse me heaven if I tell a lie.
This nobleman is so in love with you

He'd take you for
his mistress straightaway.

You'd Live like a princess,
with coach and four

To gallop you to dances or a play.

Just think of it,
it's certainly much better

Than mouldering away one's married life
In an evil smelling, filthy, cobbler's shop

And there he is, just look.

He's searching for you.

His hands are elegant,
his posture noble.

I'll go now, dear.

You'll get on so much better
If I leave you two alone a little while.

Here is the girl,
see how she sighs for you.

But sir, you'll not forget
your go-between.

- The money is my friend's, the handshake
mine. - Aah, what a grip you have!

How pleased you'd be if you
were what you claimed, you withered hag!

- You could buy me a little present
if you liked, - Don't embarrass me.

I'll drape your lovely neck
with pearls and diamonds,

But not in order to embellish it; They
could not gleam in a more perfect setting.

How kind, how lovely,
my friends will be so jealous.

But not this heart,
let's see no more of it.

- I'll throw the thing away if it offends.
- Quite right, I'll step on it.

What's that?
I heard a scream, or did I fancy it?

A hanging.
We are lucky to be here.

Let's follow them,
it's such a thrilling sight,

It'll give me a chance
to show the pearls off too.

- What has the scoundrel done?
- I've no idea.

It doesn't really matter
but I'll tell you:

He worked for years in Lovel's factory,
But lead is poison and he would inhale it

And while he spent
some weeks in hospital,

His pretty little wife
fell on hard times,

And Lovel's son
being young and generous,

They found each other
and forgot their troubles.

Cheerly old mate!
You'll die a martyr's death,

And we will keep
your reputation shining.

The man recovered,
couldn't find his wife,

His post was filled,
he couldn't get another,

He grew hot tempered,
dared to utter threats,

Then Lovel's son
slapped him across the face.

The poor wretch seized a knife
that lay close by. And there he goes.

- Old Lovel lost his senses.
- You lie, you lie,

it's not I who is mad,
Do I not hear my son's wounds whispering?

Take it, take all of it,
my endless wealth,

I'd rather not hear.
I'd sooner lose my reason!

Courage, the day of reckoning will come.

Go with raised head,

They are the guilty ones.

The sight freezes my marrow,
why does it haunt me?

Who could tell here
who is more to blame?

Perhaps the sin lies with society;

Once that begins to rot,
vice spreads like fungus.

Come on, come on,
or we won't find a place.

More disillusion,

I thought it was enough
To topple the grim idols of the past

And give our energies a freer rein.

I threw away the central mechanism
Which held the works together...

Reverence.

And neglected to replace it
with one stronger.

What contest can it be when an armed man
Confronts opponents who are bare and forked?

What independence when a hundred starve
Unless they bear some individual's yoke?

It's worse than dogs
fighting for a bone.

How vain you are.

Because your feeble sight
Only allows you glimpses of confusion

You think there is no underlying order,
No system in the engine room of life?

Just look now through
the eyes these spirits lend you

And see the work
they're bringing to completion

Not for themselves,
poor fellows,

but for us.

The cradle and the grave are one

And end what they begin,

Hungry yet full, they raise today

Those yesterday thrown in!

The angelus resounds, pack up,

Go home and go to bed,

Those whom dawn awakes can face

The work that remains ahead

My japes are done,
I've played my part,

Amused the world,
left unamused my heart.

The ale is drunk and all are tight,
Goodnight, sweet customers, goodnight.

I've sold what violets I have,
But fresh ones blossom on my grave.

Men long to see the future clear,
But now they close their eyes in fear.

My wealth brought only misery,
This new tranquility comes free.

The week is done, it's Saturday,

My daily pains are soothed away.

My dreams were sweet, my waking rough,
I'll start again where they left off.

I thought I was the plucky sort,

But this foul ditch has caught me short.

All passion spent,
my skin stripped bare

I feel cold:
what's it like down there?

The chains remain, my clay is poor,
New laws may lie beyond the door.

We each claimed wisdom as our own

But truth astounds
all once it's known.

Why stand there, pit,
gaping at my feet!

O never think your night
can frighten me:

My dust flies downward,
clay returns to clay,

But gloriously,
I shall pass beyond you.

You recognize her, Adam?

Eve!

I'd have a society which

protects not punishes,

exhorts not terrifies,

gains its strength
from common enterprise,

One conceived by science
to please itself,

A system which the intellect
has ordered.

And this will come to be,
I feel

O lead me, lead me, Lucifer,
to this world.

Where are we now?
What land or nation is this?

The whole world is
a single nation now,

With all men working
to a common purpose,

And above this tranquil stream
that flows to order,

Revered by all,
the scientist stands guard.

But tell me first,
where are we, in what place?

This phalanstery is one of a great number
A home for those imbued with new ideals.

Good afternoon, professor!

We're delegates
From Phalanstery 1,000, on observation,

Your fame brought us
all this way.

Your energy does you credit,
I admit.

What is your field of specialization?

We're not attached to a particular one
But would prefer to take a general view.

You're wrong, great things
are hidden in small details

And life's too short
to tackle every subject.

Let us take a look round the museum.

There's not another like it
in the world,

You will find every prehistoric creature
Displayed in here, all original samples,

And finely mounted.

There are many fantastic stories
about them, Take this example,

once used as a train.

That is a horse.
Of a degenerate breed

They say man would keep these as
a friend, without regard to profit

and through close attention the creature
could divine his master's thoughts.

What's more, they say that he adopted
Man's own vices,

the sense of property,
Would even sacrifice his life for it.

They had illusions,
many strange ideas,

And this is one that has
come down to us.

- This is a dog, all you've said is true.
- This ruled the savannah. - It's a lion.

And look, here is a tiger,
and a deer.

- What creatures are left living
in the world? - What can you mean?

Is it different where you are?
What lives is what is useful

or what science
has found no adequate substitute for yet

This tiny chunk is gold.

It was highly valued
and absolutely useless.

When man was blind
and worshipped higher beings

he would attribute similar powers to gold
And sacrifice his comforts and his rights

Upon its altar so as to obtain
Some tiny morsel of the magic substance,

In exchange for which
he could get everything,

Yes, even bread,
amazingly enough.

Come, show me something else,
I know all this.

You must be
a most learned fellow, stranger.

All right then,
let's examine some old plants.

Now this rose
was the very last to bloom on Earth.

The thing had no discernible function,
One of a thousand that took the nourishment

Required by fields of corn;

The very soul of man
bore flowers of sorts

In images of poetry and faith.

We have preserved as representative
Two curious works.

The first one is poem:

Its author, culpable of the desire
For individual fame, was known

As Homer.

He describes fantastic world called Hades
We long ago disproved his every line

The other document
Is Agricola, the author Tacitus.

It is a quaint and yet regrettable
Account of life in the barbaric world.

So there remain at least a few stray leaves
Of those great ages, like a testament,

And I suppose they are incapable
Of inciting their degenerate descendants

To rebel against this artificial world?

An acute remark.
We have foreseen all this,

We know the hidden poison
is most dangerous,

That's why men are not allowed to read it
Until they have passed sixty years of age

And pledged their lives
to the strict pursuit of science.

But wouldn't nursery songs and fairy tales
Infect an infant mind with fantasy?

Your observation is correct and so
Our nurses' stories are about equations,

Diagrams and geometrical figures.

This picture here
was drawn by hand alone

It might have taken
half a lifetime's work,

And note its subject,
an eccentric story.

These various objects,
how gaudy they all are,

How infantile.
This goblet with a flower,

This chairback
with its fancy arabesques,

Are examples of
their wasted manual work.

Today machines
can make these things for us

In their simplest
and most economical forms

And from such perfection it must follow
The artisan who makes the nuts and bolts

Is bound to the machine
throughout his life.

That's why there is no life,
no character,

This regulated, ordered universe,

Is comradeship not an established fact?

What do men lack
for their material welfare?

Really, these thoughts
deserve strict punishment.

At least inform me what ideal it is
That breathes the unity into such people,

And rouses them to this communal effort.

The ideal that binds
our people is subsistence.

When Humankind first came upon the scene
a well-stocked larder was at its disposal:

Man only needed to extend his hand
To gather all he needed, fit for use.

So he squandered all, without a thought,
Like maggots in cheese, and in his stupor

Found time to dabble in romantic theories
And seek out stimulants and poetry.

But we, who are left with
the last crumbs of cheese,

We must be prudent, as we've known for years
Our supplies are low and we might starve.

The sun will cool down in 4,000 years,
The earth will yield no vegetation then;

So we have but these four thousand years
To find what will take the place of sunlight

I'm glad our interview has led us here.
I'd quite forgotten the state of my alembic

Since I am working
on this very problem.

Man has grown old indeed if he relies on
test-tubes for assistance in his business.

It only needs a spark
to spring to life.

A spark indeed,
but where is it to come from?

It can only be a step away,
no more.

But if a person fails to take that step
He has done nothing,

and what he knows is nothing.

A well-earned rest.
It's time to take a walk,

The workers leave
their factories and fields,

Those who have done
something wrong are punished,

Women and children are distributed.

Number Thirty!

Present.

Once again
The furnace has been wildly overheated.

It seems to us that your enthusiasm
begins to threaten the whole Phalanstery.

Who could resist temptation

while that fierce element
crackles, spits and bellows,

Encircling you with
thousands of bright tongues

That leap towards you,
hoping to destroy you:

To stand before it bravely,
fanning it,

Knowing full well
that you are in control

You cannot know
the magic power of fire

If you've only seen it
warm a frying pan.

Vainglorious talk,
no supper for you today.

But I will fan the fire again tomorrow.

What's this I see?
I recognize the man.

That was Luther.

Two hundred and nine!

- Present.
- It is the third time we have spoken

- About your fighting without provocation.
- No provocation? Am I not provoked?

Those fit to stand up for themselves
Are cowards if they squeal for help.

Was he so feeble,
as not to stay and fight?

Until you calm down
we shall have to treat you.

Ah Cassius, if you could recognize me,
Your comrade at Philippi.

- Four hundred! Step forward.
- Yes, I heard you.

You're lost in dreams again, so the cattle
You were supposed to tend have come to harm

To wake you up
we'll make you kneel on grain.

My dreams are sweet,
even on hard grains.

Ah Plato, what a role they've given you,
And this in the society you coveted.

Seventy-two, step forward!

Here I am.

- You've left your workplace
in a dreadful mess. - Yes,

because I'm always making chair legs,

And what is more,
they are the ugliest shapes.

I've often enough
begged to change the form,

To be allowed
to carve some new design.

You wouldn't let me.

I asked, for a change,
To work on the chairback,

that was all in vain.

And I was on the verge of madness when

I left that torture chamber
called the workshop.

This breach of order means
you are confined within your room.

You'll do without your sunlight.

Michelangelo, what hell it is

How many well-known faces everywhere,

One fought beside me,
another died a martyr,

This one thought
the whole wide world too narrow,

But how the state has ground down
everyone to dwarfish uniformity.

Oh Lucifer, let's go,
my soul has had enough of this.

Today two children have outgrown the age
When they require a mother's full attention

They must be transferred to the nursery,
Come on, come on!

What a glorious sight!

So even this cold world
is not devoid of poetry!

Well, Adam, are we going?

No, there is no better place than this.

Doctor, examine the phrenology
of these children.

What will become of me.

That voice!

A common woman. What is she
to you who've tasted Semiramis' kisses?

But then I did not know her.

Oh, I see! That is
the age old plaint of every lover;

Each maintains he discovered passion and
none before him knew love's true nature.

So nothing changes.
The same old song persists 1,000 years.

We'll educate this infant as a doctor.
This a shepherd.

Off they go then.

Don't touch them! This child belongs to me
Who'd tear him from his mother's breast!

Take them away,
what are you waiting for?

O my baby!

Mine, since I nourished you
with the blood of my own heart.

What earthly power
Would dare to cut that sacramental cord?

If there is anything that you hold sacred
You must let this woman keep her child.

That's right, that's right,
O you blessed stranger.

This is a very dangerous game, stranger;

If we allowed the prejudice
for families to survive,

we'd sacrifice at once
the benefits of our beloved science.

Oh my child!

These two young women here are
partnerless. Apply now if you want them.

I'll take this one.

What do you say, doctor?

A fanatic man and an unstable woman
Will breed substandard children.

- It is wrong. - But I will not
desert her if she wants me.

I will be yours, most generous of men.

- I love you, lady, love you
with all my heart. - I love you too.

- I feel I've always loved you.
- This is madness.

it's really most disturbing
to see such spectres

of the past in this enlightened age.
Where can they have come from?

We are late beams
of sunlight out of Eden.

That is regrettable.

Don't pity us!
The madness is our own;

we are not jealous
of your sanity,

since all outstanding and noble things
in this world have been madness,

And no amount of reason
could control them.

So we despise the low dust of the earth

And seek out ways
to reach those higher spheres.

Why should we listen to any more of this,
Take them away, down to the hospital.

You need help quickly, Adam.
Let's be going!

How furiously we have flown.
Where are we?

Did you not wish to rise
above the earth to higher spheres?

And yet I'm homesick,
breaking free is painful. Ah Lucifer!

Just look back at our planet,

The flowers were first
to vanish from our sight,

And then the trembling
branches of the forests;

Our well-known haunts, 100 favourite nooks
Have levelled down, now a featureless plain

Whatever thrilled us
has been washed away.

Unfortunately, from this eminence

First the beautiful, noble
And the powerful all fade away,

until nothing's left but
a series of cold figures.

We're leaving
the very stars behind us now,

I see no end, I feel no obstacle.

What's life without
the striving and the passion?

This deep cold terrifies me, Lucifer!

Is this the limit of your vaunted courage?
We should return to playing in the dust.

Who said it was?
No, forward, let's go forward:

It only hurts until the ties are broken,
Each web of rope that holds me to the earth

But what is this?
I find it hard to breathe,

I've little strength,

my thoughts are all confused.

The tale that tells
how Antaeus could survive

Only until his feet still touched
the ground. Was it more than legend?

More indeed.

Here is the border,
the limit of my power,

If you return you live,
go on, you perish,

You squirm and wriggle
like a worm in water

That puddle is
the whole wide world to you.

Then I defy you,
you have failed to scare me.

You cannot shake me,
my spirit will press on.

Adam, Adam, you have but a few minutes:

Go back, on Earth
you might achieve true greatness,

But once you have forced your spirit
through the ring of all existence,

God will not permit you
to approach Him

He will shrink and wreck you.

I have perished!

This puppet god
can now go into orbit

As a planet on which new life might evolve
All over again to give me fresh employment

You laugh too soon, Lucifer.

He merely brushed against
the alien world.

It's not so easy to break
the bounds of my realm,

Your home is calling you;

come to yourself, my son.

I live again.

I sense because I suffer,

But even suffering is sweet to me,

Annihilation is so...

horrifying.

O Lucifer,
please lead me back to earth,

There where I've fought
so many useless battles,

I'll fight again
and that will make me happy.

So after all these trials
you still believe

That these new battles
may not be so useless?

That you will reach your goal?

Only humanity could remain so...
incorrigibly childish. -

I'm quite untempted
by that foolish prospect,

I know that I will fail and fail again

And I don't care.
What other goal is there?

It is the end of an honourable contest,

The goal is death,
but life consists of struggle,

The struggle in itself
must be the goal.

Oh what a consolation,

if your battle were fought
for some commensurate ideal,

But what you prize today
you'll mock tomorrow,

The cause that fired you then
will seem as child's play.

That may be true, and yet
however false ideals they were,

they managed to inspire
and raise me up:

they all were great and sacred.

Take me back now,

I'm burning to see what new doctrine will
inspire me in the world that has been saved

Very well then, back.

Why must we roam this endless world of snow
Where death looks at us with empty eyes,

Lead me where palms grow, that paradise
Of sunshine and sweet fragrance,

That's where we are.

That ball of blood is your sun.

Directly beneath our feet
is the Equator.

Science has finally destroyed itself.

A dreadful world!

The best thing is to die.

I won't regret
the world I leave behind.

Ah Lucifer!

That I who once stood beside
the cradle of humanity

and knew what mighty hopes
attended on his rocking,

Who fought beside him
in his every battle,

and now the last of men,

Would like to know...
the manner of our going.

Did we die bravely,
fighting to the last

Or miserably shrink from post to post,
Undignified, unworthy of lament?

But rest assured,
your species still survives.

Look there,
there stands a human habitation,

And see, its owner
has just come through the door.

And do the gods still live above?
Here they stand now, in the flesh.

Are they good or evil though?
I'll play it safe and run away.

Wait! A word with you!

Have mercy! I promise to sacrifice the
first seal I catch, if you don't hurt me.

What right have you to sacrifice the life
of that poor seal just to save your own?

Because I'm stronger; I look around
And see the fish consume the worm,

Seal eat the fish,
and I the seal.

Behold, O mighty God,
look down and blush

To see how wretched man is, he whom You
Intended to be the wonder of the world!

Your friend is angry.
Is he hungry too?

It is just because he's not
that he is angry.

Why must you joke
at such an awful time!

It's no joke but the truth. Your
reasoning is typical of a full stomach

his is the philosophy
of one that's empty.

So all our high ideals are nothing
but the steam of primal kitchens,

Then speak with your fellow here.

A little lesson in self-knowledge
will not come amiss.

- Are many of you living in this district?
- Oh many indeed,

more than I could count
on all my fingers.

But even though I beat
My neighbours' heads in, it is pointless,

New settlers will keep coming,
seals are few.

If god you are, I beg you,
do this for me,

Let there be less of men
and more of seals.

- Oh Lucifer, let's go, I've had enough!
- Let us at least meet the fellow's wife.

Don't you recognize an old acquaintance?
Embrace her, it's the proper thing to do.

Her husband would take grave offence if you
Were not to show such courtesy to his wife

Embrace her,

I, who held Aspasia
in my arms!

This thing

whose features hint at some
resemblance so contorted that somehow,

in the very act of kissing she'll
be transformed into a beast.

Guests, woman,
be nice and friendly to them.

You're welcome, stranger,
come and rest.

Help me, Lucifer!
Away from here,

Lead me from the future
to the present,

Let me see no more of my harsh fate:

This useless struggle.

Let me think it over

If I should I still take issue
with God's will.

Wake then, Adam!

Your dream is at an end.

Where have you gone,
you dreadful images?

The world around me smiles
and life goes on as when I left it,

but my heart is broken.

Such dreadful vanity! Did you expect
The whole order of nature to collapse,

To find new comets blazing in the sky,
A quaking earth because one worm was lost?

Did I dream it,
or am I dreaming now,

And anyway, is life more than a dream
Which for a moment lights on inert matter

Only to break up
and perish with it?

Why grant us men an hour of consciousness
Only to show the horrors of unbeing?

This is the fate that waits on history,
You a tool: the process drives you onward

No, no - you're lying.
We possess free will,

And I have more than earned its exercise.
I sacrificed all paradise for it,

So individual men
are not tied down,

But as a race
they're forced to go in chains;

Floods of enthusiasm sweep them on
From one ambition to the next

where some are fuel to the fire
and others mockers.

And whoever keeps a catalogue of these
must surely admire the sheer consistency

of fate which fixes marriages and deaths
governs the incidence of vice and virtue

Of faiths and madness
and of suicides.

Enough, no more!
O what a thought has struck me

Though fate may keep repeating:
Live so long!

I could laugh it out of court
if I were dead.

For am I not alone in all the world?

The cliff before me, there the drop:
One final leap, the last act of the play

Then I may say the comedy is ended...

The end, the end: what nonsense you talk!
Each moment's a beginning and an end.

Was it for this
you journeyed down the years?

Why steal from me so stealthily,

So cold embraced, so frigidly,

I see you're angry, deep distressed,
Oh Adam dear, you frighten me.

Why follow me,
why guard my steps so jealously?

It will be so much harder to perform
The sacrifice that time requires of me.

If you hear me
it might be less hard.

For all is known that was in doubt
of days to come. The secret's out.

What is known?

I know how happy you will be,
so hear,

I'll whisper low,

I carry your baby, Adam dear.

My lord, you've conquered.

I grovel in the dust;

I can't struggle without you
or against you:

Raise me or strike me down.
I bare my breast.

Feeble worm! Have you forgot your
greatness for which you have me to thank?

Oh leave me! The whole thing
was a mirage: this is peace!

And what have you to boast of,
stupid woman?

Your son was conceived in sin,
albeit in Eden,

And he'll bring sin
and misery to the world.

It God so wills it, one will come

Conceived in misery and woe,
to wash the world

ringing us
with holy bonds of brotherhood.

So you rebel against me, you mere slave?
Rise from the dust, you animal.

And you, spirit, down to the dust with you
There is none great before me

Damn you, damn you!

Adam, arise,
do not be so downcast,

For see, once more
I take you to my bosom.

A family reunion, I see.

All very nice for the emotions but
Unutterably boring for the mind.

Lucifer, wait!
I have a word to say to you as well.

And as for you, my son,
tell me what ails you.

My Lord,

I have been racked by fearful visions,

And I cannot tell
which of them is true.

Oh tell me truly,
say what fate awaits me:

This little narrow life is all I have;
Is my spirit to be squeezed as in a press

Between my struggles, only for the wine
To be poured away at last into, the soil.

Or have you other plans
for this fine vintage?

Are we, our race, to steadily march onward
Growing nobler as we approach Thy throne

Or like oxen on a mill,
exhaust ourselves,

Unable to break
the leashes of our circuit?

Is there some recompense
for noble spirits

Who shed their blood,
facing the ridicule of wretched crowds?

O please, enlighten me,
and I will gladly carry any burden;

I cannot help but gain by knowledge

Since uncertainty is... hell.

No, do not ask to burrow deeper
into the great secret

The hand of God, for the best of motives,
Has hidden from your hungry eyes.

You bow beneath the weight
of your ephemeral being,

the sense of eternity will raise you.

And if the pride engendered
by that snares you,

Your tiny span of life
will set the bounds,

And safeguard virtue and nobility.

Indeed, you have
a fine career before you:

Nobility and virtue guide your steps.

Virtue, nobility,
two words whose meaning is

only realized when superstition, Ignorance
and prejudice provide their bodyguard.

Why did I embark on mighty things with man
mere mud and sunlight rolled into a ball

dwarfish in intellect,
gigantic in his blindness.

O Lucifer, refrain from mockery:

Your arm is strong,
your heart is elevated:

The field is vast
and calls for endless labour,

And you too, Lucifer,
you are a link within my universe

and so continue:
Your icy intellect

and fond denial will be the leaven
to foment rebellion

Your punishment though, which
will be eternal, is ever to look on,

and see your schemes
of ruination turn into the seeds

Of all that is
most beautiful and noble.

To make free choice of vice or virtue,
a proud ordeal for man to bear

A proud ideal for man to bear
and still to know

that God above us
extends his shield with tender care.

Take courage then, expect derision,
Ignore the masses' howl of scorn,

'Tis not for their thanks
that you labour,

When honour is of great deeds born,

I understand their song,
praise God!

I guess its meaning
and will act upon it.

But for the end!
If I could but forget it!

Man, I have spoken:
Strive on!

Have trust and faith!

Subtitles: Corvusalbus
from George Szirtes' translation