Original subtitles

THE COLOUR OF POMEGRANATES

Directed and written by Sergei PARADJANOV

Music by T. MANSOURlAN

Poet as a youth, poet's love,

Angel of Resurrection,

Poet's muse and mime

played by S. CHlAURELl

Poet as a child: S. ALEKlAN

Poet in the cloister: V. GALSTlAN

Poet as an old man: G. GUEGUETSKORl

The prince: H. MlNASSlAN

This film is not the life story of a poet.

Rather, the film maker has tried

to recreate the poet's inner world,

through the trepidations of his soul,

widely utilizing the

symbolism and allegories

specific to Medieval Armenian poet-troubadours.

I am the man whose life and soul are torture.

I am the man whose life and soul are torture.

I am the man whose life and soul are torture.

I am the man whose life and soul are torture.

In the beginning,

God created heaven and earth.

On the sixth day,

God said:

"Now we shall create man according to Our image

"and likeness."

According to His image,

God created Man.

And the Lord God created man from the dust of the earth,

and blew into him the breath of life and Man became a living soul.

And God put the man he created

in the Garden of Eden

so that Man would till the earth

and tend the Garden.

And the Lord instructed him and said:

Many have come ahead of me,

and having vaguely known this amazing world

they have extinguished and expired ahead of me.

Books must be well kept and read,

for books are Soul and Life.

Without books,

the world would have witnessed nothing but ignorance.

You should read aloud for the people,

for their souls,

since many are unable to read what is written.

From the colors and aromas of this world,

my childhood made a poet's lyre and offered it to me.

I bow before you.

Saint George, we implore you,

let your good fortune spread over our family.

Along with your white horse, be a stronghold for our people.

Give prosperity to this family,

give them good thoughts and prosperity.

We were searching for ourselves in each other...

The river has overflown its banks...

In this healthy and beautiful life,

my share has been nothing but suffering.

Why has it been given to me?

We were searching for a place of refuge for our love,

but instead, the road led us to the land of the dead.

You abandoned us and went away,

but we the living, we wrapped you

in a cocoon

so in your new world you would burst out like a butterfly.

How am I to protect my wax-built castles of love

from the devouring heat of your fires?

You are fire.

Your dress is...

You are fire.

Your dress is...

You are fire.

Your dress is fire.

You are fire.

Your dress is black.

Which of these fires can I endure?

Go and find a shelter in selfless love.

I will go and search the monasteries one by one.

What is your name?

Aroutin...

Lord, have mercy.

Remember, Lord, and have mercy.

O Christ, son of God, good and forgiving,

in your love, have mercy on your servant's soul,

the late Aroutin who has joined you.

Remember him on the day ofyour Advent,

grant him the remission of his sins...

Jamal, come on, faster...

He put Eve's hand into Adam's one, and Adam said:

"She is bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh,

"Woman, taken out of Man.

"A man leaves his parents and cleaves unto his wife,

"and their souls will be one flesh for ever."

Godfather, what's his name?

Aroutin.

The child Aroutin has come to be baptized.

Do it in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

By grace of the blood of Christ,

welcome him in the Father's Kingdom of Heaven.

Let him be the heir to Christ

and the temple of the living God.

Aroutin!

Brothers of mine in soul and blood,

heaven has sent upon us to this world, grief... grief...

Brothers of mine in soul and blood, grief, inconsolable grief...

has been sent to us from heaven today.

On this night of revelations at Etchmiadzin,

died our Saint Father Lazarus,

Catholicos of all Armenians,

the greatest of men and prelates.

Brothers of mine in soul and blood, the grief...

heaven has sent upon us...

From this world, we come to you, my Lord,

as a crowd of innocent victims.

Brothers of mine

in soul and blood,

heaven has sent upon us grief... grief...

Brothers of mine in soul and blood, inconsolable grief

has been sent upon us from heaven.

During this night of the revelation of Saint Sarkis,

our Holy Father Lazarus has died at Etchmiadzin.

Catholicos of all Armenians,

the greatest of men and prelates.

I asked for a shroud to wrap the dead body,

instead, I was given frenzied convulsions of their living bodies.

Where can I find selfless love?

... God, our Saviour,

like an everlasting flower unsoiled,

give your good word for us

and bless the good immaculate ones,

Blessed be our Lord Jesus Christ,

whose life and body

are immaculate...

Our Father, who art in Heaven...

In the Sun Valley of the distant years

live my longings, my loves, my childhood.

You are fire.

Dressed in black.

Your mind delights me,

My beloved darling, my wounded darling

High is our gallantry,

Persian soldiers are lying everywhere,

Let the scarlet blood flow,

In the meadow the flowers redden

The moon breaks through the clouds

I saw everything clear and strangely blunt,

and I understood that life had abandoned me.

We have slain the sacrificial lamb, boiled the meat,

and distributed it at seven places...

Come hither, come!

When my husband and I went to Tiflis,

we went to the Turkish square, to the public bathhouse.

We had a good bath.

What are you saying?

You let everyone know that we went to the bathhouse!

Give these rosters to the maidens.

As we came out to eat some barbecue,

we heard that a troubadour had come to town.

We went to see him.

He was a cobbler.

My love...

My life is all yours

How can I help it?

Go,

go amongst the people!

Go,

may we always hear of your triumphs!

You are the salt of the earth!

May the God of speech be always with you.

Go amongst the people!

Go!

I hear calls of homecoming and hope,

but I am weary.

Who has spread all this sorrow upon this old and weary earth?

The world is like an open window

and I'm weary of passing through it

Burned is the one who looks through it

And I'm weary of the cauteries

I'm weary of the tomorrows,

and I'm weary of the dawn

You can't always be even

And I'm weary of playing

I'm weary of the tomorrows

And I'm weary of the dawn

You can't always be even

And I'm weary of playing

Sayat Nova said:

My sorrow

is incommensurable

The world is like an open window.

The world...

The bread you gave us was beautiful,

but the soil is even more beautiful.

I'll go and soon turn to dust.

I am weary, weary.

The word of our Lord Jesus Christ...

Sing!

In this world...

In... this... world... In...

Sing!

In this world...

In this world...

Die!

THE END