All language subtitles for Az ember tragediaja 2011 720p BluRay AAC 2.0 x264-DON_Eng Text

Verily the great work
is accomplished,

The machine goes round,
the creator takes his rest.

So for a million
years will it rotate

Before one single cog
need be renewed.

Arise then, guardian
spirits of light, arise.

Begin your unending courses.

Once more I would delight in you

As you hum beneath my feet.

Thou Lucifer keep'st silence;

stand'st in self conceit.

Dost thou not find
a word of praise for me,

Or doesn't my
creation please thee?

What should please me in it?

Some bits of matter Are clothed
with divers properties

Which they did not exhibit before
And-maybe thou didst not guess

Or if thou didst thou
couldst not change the

Kneaded up into some globes

Are now attracting,
chasing and repelling.

Man, if he once finds
out the secret

Will do the same thing
in his laboratory.

Thou wilt put thy man in thy great kitchen
And overlook it, when he bungles,

A slovenly cook who
thinks that he is God.

But when he wastes
and spoils the brew

Then thy wrath
flares up too late;

What else dost thou
expect from amateurs?

Thou hast composed
thy hymn of praise

And put it on a gramophone And wilt
not get bored for ever and ever

That the same old tune
always goes on like that.

A tiny spark downtrodden
in the mire

May ape, but won't
be like his Lord;

Fate and freewill will
harry one another

And intellectual harmony
will be lacking.

Homage, not criticism is my due.

What is not in my nature

I can't give.

That mean host is
full of adulation,

And it's quite proper
that they should give praise,

Thou gavest them life,
as light gives birth to shade

But I have lived
from all eternity.

Shameless!

Wert thou not born of matter?

Where before that was thy domain
and power?

That's just the question
I might put to thee.

An endless time ago did
I conceive my plan,

What was brought forth to-day,
already lived within me.

'Midst thy conceits didst thou
not feel the void

Which put a barrier
to all existence

And thereby forced
you to create?

That barrier was named Lucifer

The primaeval
spirit of negation.

Thou madest matter,

I thereby gained space.

Where life is,
death stands nigh;

Depression follows
after happiness;

Shadows are cast by light,
in hope there's doubt;

Where'er thou art,
thou wilt see me there,

And I who know thee,
should I do thee homage?

Jointly we have created.

I claim my share.

Be it as thou dost desire.

Look down upon the earth,
amongst the trees of Eden,

See those two slender ones,
just in the middle.

I curse them,

let them be thine.

With niggard hand
thou metest out,

great Lord as thou art,

Yet one foot sole of
earth will be enough

Where negation can
get a foothold

It will overturn thy world.

Adam, only avoid, avoid
these two trees.

Another spirit guards
their luscious fruit

And he who tastes thereof
shall die the death.

Why are these two trees
fairer than all others,

Why just these two forbidden?

Why is the sky blue?

The forest green?

Let us obey the voice,
follow me, Eve.

Hail, brother spirit!

I did not know that
other men existed.

Oh! There's still a great deal
that thou dost not know,

And that thou wilt not know.

Dost thou think the good old man
Would have created thee from dust

Merely to share the
world with thee?

Thou praisest him,
he looks after thee,

He says to thee: Take
this, beware of that,

Protects and guides thee
like a fleecy sheep.

There's no necessity
for thee to be self conscious.

Self conscious?

Am I not fully conscious?

Do I not feel the blessed
beams of sunshine

The sweet joy of existence

And the infinite
goodness of my God

Who made me to be God
over this earth?

So too perhaps deludes himself
that little worm

Which eats the fruit
in front of you,

In what respect dost thou
hold thyself more noble?

Aye, one thing there is

and that is thought

Which all unconscious lies
torpid in thy breast,

That can give thee manhood,

making thee confide in thy own strength,
to choose 'twixt good and evil

Thyself to plan out
thine own destiny

And free thyself from tutelage.

But perhaps 'tis better
for thee like a worm

To pullulate in a
soft couch of dung

In ignorance to
wear away thy life.

Thou speakest of great things,

they make me dizzy.

What you say is new and lovely.

But knowledge by
itself is not enough,

That it may be embodied
in great deeds,

There must be
Immortality as well.

For what can life's
short span accomplish?

These two trees hold
both these secrets,

O man, beware!

Boughs rustling in the wind.
These two trees are mine.

Who then art thou?

Thou seem'st to be, in
truth, a man like us.

The spirit kingdom
is beyond thy range of vision,

To thee the greatest
of all things is man.

Likewise the dog's ideal is dog,

He honours thee by
taking thee as comrade.

But just as thou disdainest him
And standest over him as destiny

In the same way we look down on thee Proud
of our membership of the spirit world.

Why then didst thou not
stay in the bright sky,

Why to this world of dust
com'st thou amongst us?

I require strife,
a want of harmony

Which begets new strength
and gives us a new world,

Where in himself the
spirit may be great;

Thither who dares may
come along with me.

God said that
punishment would follow

If we did not choose
the path appointed by him.

Why should he punish?

Surely if he choose
The path he wanted us to follow,

At the same time he
must have made us so

That guilty inclination would
not draw us from it.

If sin forms part
of his design...

Behold, the first
philosopher appears!

Many will follow in thy track,
my fair young sister,

Who will discuss this
in a million ways;

not one will arrive.

Hadn't you better
give up speculation?

Speculation is the
death of action.

The Lord has cursed it.

But pick it all the same

Let come what must befall us.

Let us be wise like God.

And as well Forever young.

Here, this way, this way.

This is the tree of immortality.
Make haste.

Adam,

Adam, thou hast abandoned me.

I too leave thee,

see what thou canst
do by thyself.

Are you discouraged?

Not at all!

This is merely the
shiver of awakening.

Let us away my wife,
anywhere-away!

This place is now most
strange and desolate.

The family and property Will be
the world's twain motive power

The source of all its pleasures
and its pains.

These two ideas will
grow unceasingly.

Begetting everything
that's great and noble

And, Saturn-like,
devouring their own offspring.

Thou speak'st in riddles.

Thou hast promised knowledge,

For this I have renounced
instinctive pleasures

And what's the upshot?

Why, don't you feel it?

I feel that just as
I am left by God

Who thrust me empty
handed to the desert

So I have left God.

I myself have become
God to myself,

and what I shall achieve
Is duly mine.

What should I thank him for?
My mere existence?

For if life's burden
is worth while

'Tis only by the fruits
of my hard toil;

But if the bond of gratitude
to God is broken,

For that thy help
was not required

My own strength had sufficed me.

If I would leap, my
body is held back;

If contemplation raises
me to higher spheres,

Hunger compels me
humbly to descend

Down to the well
trodden earth again.

This bond is stronger
than I am myself.

Ah,

so thou art a truly
feeble spirit

If this invisible cobweb,
this mere nothing

Which a hundred thousand beings
don't perceive

And in its toils, freely
quite free Leap about...

can yet defy thee.

And that is only able to defy me

Because, like me,
it is a spirit.

Thou deem'st perhaps because he works
in secret silently he is not strong.

Do not think that.

Only the work of man
glitters and chatters

Limited to life's short span.

Let me have just one
glance at this activity

A moment only,
thou knowest my heart is strong

Glance around and see
with spirit eyes

Appear, Spirit!

Old Satan, none but he
Would dare to summon thee.

What spectre art thou?
It was not thee I called.

The spirit of the earth is weak
and mild.

What appeared to thee weak
in the heavenly choir

Is endlessly strong
in its own proper sphere.

Behold,
I am here, yet mark this

to vex is not the same thing
as to direct.

If I put on my proper shape,
thou wouldst succumb

And these two worms
here be annihilated.

But say, in what way may man
approach Thy proud entourage

should he take thee for his god?

Dispersed in streams,
in clouds, in woods

In every place where
man shall look for me

I see no use in all this brilliant play
Passing before me. I cannot understand it.

For me it's only
one more mystery.

- Let me see...
- Let me see too.

What I shall strive and suffer
for... in all these changes

Whether my charms will
not get withered or be lost.

So let it be.

I will put a charm on you

You shall survey the
future to its end.

What can it be which does
not let great Pharaoh

Take his repose upon
his cushioned throne?

Why dost thou renounce
the pleasures of the day

And the sweet visions
which come by night

When already, all the glory and the power
Of this great world belong to thee?

They are not freely
given, I make no effort

To obtain them,

nor have to thank
myself for them.

But in this work which
here I undertake

I hold that I have found the path
Which leads to genuine greatness.

Nature is rapt in
admiration at its art,

It will proclaim my name
throughout the ages,

The earthquake and the
tempest cannot overturn it:

Man has become more powerful

than God.

O Pharaoh, art thou too made
happy By these imaginings?

Put thy hand upon thy heart.

Not I,

I feel a void, an unutterable
void. But that's no matter.

I have not aspired to happiness

Only to fame, which
opens out before me.

Suppose one day thou
come to recognize

That glory is a plaything
of the moment.

That cannot be!

And yet if?

I should turn to die Cursing the
coming generations of mankind.

My lord! Help me!

Thou implor'st in vain.

He who has never
shared our sufferings

Can never comprehend them!

The voice of pain is low,
The throne is high.

Why dost thou not call on me

Who shelter thee and on
my body take Each stroke.

Leave them there.

Begone.

Who is this woman, what
is her magic charm

By which, as with a chain,
she drags great Pharaoh

Down to herself as she
grovels in the dust?

That once again is
one of those threads

With which thy lord
in derision has encircled thee,

That thou may'st know thou art a caterpillar
Though in thy own conceit thou art a butterfly.

Thou hast already seen the
strength of this thin thread,

I cannot break it.

Do not do that.

The more it hurts,

the more I like to feel it.

It is not seemly that a sage and
king Should groan beneath its yoke.

Millions for one man.

Why matters it, great Pharaoh?

Well then I say it is an excellent thing That
one less slave should be upon the earth.

A trifling thing to thee,
'tis all the world to me.

Alas, who will there
be to love me now?

I will love thee henceforth.

Remove the corpse.

O, Great Pharaoh, I know that
thy command is thy serf's fate

And offer no resistance,

only let me have a short time to
myself, then give thy commands.

Let me not hear that word again.

Will my kingdom Never extend
beyond the word "Command"?

Sufficient for the moment, if
thy command Does not give pain

oh, in this first moment Do not
begrudge my tears for this dead man.

How beautiful he is, ah my God,
how beautiful.

Beauty and death;
strange contrast

That calm repose
mocks our endeavours

Thou art defied by
a runaway slave,

Who says "I was stronger
than thy chains."

What is the matter, beloved?

Dost thou not hear
The people's cries?

Certainly they are not music;
but pay no heed.

Give me a kiss and
forget the world.

Put a stop to those
cries of distress.

I can't do that, it
is the people's right

Inherited together
with the yoke.

My lady, thou art pained, and I
do not know How I may help thee.

Oh Pharaoh, crush me,
but forgive me,

If the people's cries
will not let me rest.

I an apostate daughter
of the people

Feel in my heart that torture.

And I feel with thee

Thou art sad and it
is through my fault;

Banish me from thyself,
or teach me how

I can be deaf.

Thou wert better teacher

In that thou mad'st me hear
these lamentations.

I will no longer hear them.

Behold, the slave folk
Shall be freed.

What is that Glory worth Which
is accomplished in one man alone

By the destruction
and the groans of millions,

All of them fellowmen like him?

Pharaoh, thou art a fanatic.

Surely fate has destined the
crowd to be a beast of burden

A thing to turn a mill without cessation,
Since for that end it was created.

To-day thou giv'st it freedom. Yet what
thou throwest away it will not get,

And to-morrow will look
out for a new master.

Canst thou suppose that
thou couldst yoke its neck

If it did not feel that it must have a
master If it were fully conscious of itself?

Why does it groan, as if it
suffered pain From slavery?

It suffers though it
does not know the cause.

All men aspire to domination.

It is that feeling
and not brotherhood

Which towards freedom's
banner drives The great crowd

The people is like a sea,
into whose depth

No ray of light can
pierce the obscurity.

Only the wave upon
its surface shines,

In whom the people's instinct
has become conscious,

And who acclaimed as freedom's champion Dares
thrust himself up to thy splendid place.

The folk meanwhile
gains nothing,

The master is still there,

but has another name.

Thy syllogisms are
unending circles,

Is there indeed no
possible escape?

There is a way.

Say to a chosen few

"Behold, by this I set thee up above
the crowd, thou art ennobled."

They will believe thee.

Tempt not with such
enticing sophistries.

What will my fame be?

While you two are kissing

Dost thou not feel the tepid breeze
Which fans thy face and then flies off?

It leaves some specks
of dust behind it.

In one year that is
only some lines deep,

In a century it has
thickened to a cubit.

In some thousand years thy
pyramid will be buried

And thy name covered
in a heap of sand,

A terrible picture!

Fear not, only thy
spirit will be lost,

Thy body as a mummy will remain

To be a curiosity for schoolboys

Hellish bedazzlement, avaunt,

In my ear still resounds
"A million for one man"

For these millions
will I procure their due

In a free state -
elsewhere it cannot be.

And wilt thou leave
me too, thy love?

Not at such a gallop,
thou'lt reach thy goal

All in good time, perhaps
sooner than thou thinkest,

My King! Shouldst thou
return with shattered hopes

This breast will offer
shelter to thy heart.

Let us pray that Heaven will
defend our country's right

And bring your hero
father safely back to us.

Have you no fear, mother,
lest he may be beaten?

No, no, my son,

your father is a hero
and will conquer.

Only one thing about
him do I fear:

That he may not conquer himself.

How's that?

In each man's soul there is
a powerful call, Ambition.

In the slave it is asleep

Or being restricted
degenerates into crime.

But nurtured with the blood of liberty And
so augmented, it becomes civic virtue,

And gives to life all
that is great and noble,

But if it become too strong,
turning on its mother

It struggles with her, till
one of them is killed.

If your father should be
mastered by Ambition...

Let us pray, my son.

There's no exciting news, it almost seems
As if the foe had not withstood our army.

And here at home too
everyone's asleep.

Is there no one to concoct some
scheme As in the old days?

I've loafed about this
place since morning

- And haven't found a buyer for my vote.
- A slight disturbance wouldn't hurt us.

Get further off!
This is my place.

The country is in danger,
if I don't speak.

It will be lost if you do.

Hireling, get down.

You're not a hireling,
for no one would buy you.

Citizens!

It pains me to lift up my voice

Because it pains a noble heart
to humble Greatness to the dust;

and it is a great man whom I must
drag before the seat of justice

- from his triumphal car.
- That's right; adorn with flowers the victim

You have destined
for the sacrifice.

But though it makes
my heart ache, I will speak

Because, O glorious
and sovran people,

I prize you more
than your commander.

This mean spirited starving mob?

Down with him!

I do not ask green laurels
for my husband's head,

But only the peace of home
for his heroic heart.

You hear the impeachment, men!

Great Miltiades
Has sold his country.

Oh you lie, you lie!

Hear me, or when it is too late
shame and regret will overtake you.

He is bribed.

Death to him.

Shout will you. If you don't
you'll be struck off my pay list.

My lord, I'm hoarse, and
I should like To shout.

There, grease your gullet.

Death! Death!

...he who overtops
His fellow citizens by a head.

They can't bear that.

You too, old Crispes

whom my husband freed From slavery,
do you now shout for his death?

Pardon me, mistress, for the
two of us Only one can live.

I and my three children Are fed
by him who tells me how to vote.

But you Thersites,

and you all, you all

Who can sleep quietly in comfort

Because my husband drove away
the foe From your doors.

Oh, ungrateful men!

Kill him! Kill him!

All is lost!
The foe is at the gates.

It can't be so. Does not our
victorious general oppose the foe?

It's he who is the foe.

When he learnt what you were
scheming against him

His heart was filled
with noble rage

And while you talk
he's here with fire and sword.

You, traitors, brought
all this upon us.

Let's do for them!

Long live the general!

What shall we do, let
him escape who can

We are done for!
We are done for!

No. Do homage to him
Out there before the gates!

Long live our general!

Long live the leader!

Spare us your highness.

What have you done?
Why do you supplicate?

What can the strong ask
of the weak?

But my wife and child have
not come to meet me

Can some misfortune
have befallen them!

Ah, Miltiades, why
have you come,

when I your wife cannot take
pleasure in your coming?

What's this? I do not understand. The people
Asks me for pardon; my wife curses me

And my breast is bleeding
for my country.

The country and my heart
bleed more than you

Or say why you have come
at the head of a host?

Is not this escort
fitting to my rank?

I have come because this grievous wound
Has rendered me unequal to my duties.

I have come to
hand back my power

To the sovereign people who sent me
forth And to render my account to them.

Lo, I dismiss you,
my comrades in arms!

Oh, Miltiades!

Wasn't I right, that
he is a traitor?

That Darius has bought him?
The wound is only sham.

Death to him! Traitor!

A ridiculous accusation; a
traitor, I who won at Marathon?

Why did you disband your troops?

Why don't you set on
fire this den of sin?

This rabble is only
fit to be in chains

And knows that you, nobler
than all of them together,

Were born to be their master.

Why does the sovereign people allow
itself To be reviled like this?

Who takes their part is suspect.

Shout you beggars
or you will die of hunger.

- What are you hesitating about?
- What are you hesitating about?

Death to him!

I do not curse these dastard people.
It is their nature not their fault.

And servitude brought
them down to be

the bloody instrument
of some proud agitators.

'Twas I alone who was
a fool in thinking

That such a folk had
need of liberty.

Defend yourself,
you are not done for yet.

Traitor! Traitor!

Do it, for this people But lately
grovelled in the dust before you.

Ah, that's just why
it would be useless.

The people would
not forgive their own shame.

- Well, are you disabused?
- Oh, greatly!

Don't you see you would be a better master
For the stupid crowd than they are to you?

...if as a pure mother

You educate my son to be a
citizen, then you will be foolish,

and a proper mock for the painted
girl, who in a brothel sits.

Guide me, O Lucifer,
to some new road,

And laughing I will gaze on other's virtues,
Other's pains, wanting enjoyment merely.

Long live our fatherland.

Sergiolus, look
how restrained and dexterous

That gladiator with
the red ribbon is.

I'll bet you that
he beats the other one.

No, by Hercules!

Hercules indeed, Who of us
still believes in Gods?

Swear by your Julia,
then I might believe you.

So be it.

That's a powerful kind of oath
Substituting one false God for another.

Why does lust attract us
like Tantalus

If we are not as
strong as Hercules,

And a despised slave
after a week of pain

Enjoys an hour of pleasure, which
in vain his master longs for?

Ah, what a glorious
lecture on morality!

But what do you wager?

If I should lose
Be Julia yours.

And if you win?

Your horse is mine.

Recipe ferrum! Cowardly mongrel!

How your heart is
palpitating, Julia.

I cannot find repose upon it.

But just take a look
at that sour face!

What good is that
lovely girl to him...

Truly, I fear lest the poor fellow is
already infected with the black death

Which devastates the town.

Away with dance and music.

I am cloyed with all this sea
of everlasting sweetness.

My heart desires
some bitterness.

Some lunatics are
being crucified

Who dream of Justice
and Fraternity.

That's right,

Why did they discuss
other people's business?

The beggar wants the rich
to be his brother

Exchange the parts,
and he will crucify you.

Your cheerfulness has
vanished as it seems

Is there no more wine,
or is your wit used up,

So that the sour-faced man
has had enough of it?

One of us must
certainly be afraid

Or have become reformed.

Damnation take you,
if you think that.

Well then, I'll summon
a new guest amongst us,

Perhaps he'll bring
in renewed gaiety.

We'll offer him a cup of drink.

Drink comrade, it's your turn
to-day and mine to-morrow.

Perhaps you would
rather have a kiss?

Embrace him,

And steal the obol
out of his mouth.

If I kiss you, why
shouldn't I kiss him?

Stop. You'll infect
yourself with plague.

You miserable
brood-generation of poltroons

So long as happiness
is smiling on you,

Mock at God and virtue,
trampling on them.

But as soon as danger is
knocking at your doors,

So soon as you feel
God's finger touching you

You cringe like cowards...

But all in vain, in the ancient
gods you have lost faith,

they are frozen into stones.

They crumble into dust;
you do not find the new God.

You race of curs,
you will leave deserted

The scene of this great
world now purified.

The plague...

I am lost!

Will no one help me of you all Who
have shared so much pleasure with me?

It's your turn to-day
and mine to-morrow.

I and the great God
can succour you

The eternal God of holy love.

Lift up yourself to Him.

See with this water
Your soul is purified from dross

And hastens to Him.

Ah, Sergiolus, how many noble feelings
You might have found in this breast

Where you only sought
for fleeting pleasure.

And in myself, too.

Oh, if God lives if he has care
for us and we are subject to him

May he bring into the
world a new people.

I feel, all that was ours is
worn out, We are too weak.

The Lord has heard you.

Gaze around. The rotten
earth begins to breed anew,

These barbarian warriors
dressed in bearskins

Whose horses trample on the
harvestings Of bygone centuries,

and are stabled
In temples now abandoned,

will infuse new blood Into the
debased and shrunken veins.

And who in the
circus chant a hymn

While a furious tiger
lacerates their breast

will bring a new
spirit: Fraternity,

and freedom for the individual,

which will shake the world.

Let your aim be:
to give praise to God

For yourself, work,

Let each be free, to realise
all that is within him.

There's only one commandment:

love.

Up to the fight,

up to have enthusiasm
For the new doctrine.

To create a new world
whose flower will be Chivalry...

This vision sends a
shudder down my spine,

but haven't I got to
struggle with mankind?

What I can't do, he
will do in my place,

I've often seen this game before

When the glory has
slowly disappeared

The cross of blood will
still remain behind.

Stop! Why do you flee
from us like that?

Do you not perceive
this holy sign?

Observe, you see such
is the accursed fruit

if with ignoble aims, so many freebooters
wave in their hands the holy banner,

and by craven flattery
of the people's passions

impose themselves,
as uninvited leaders

Knights, my friends!

Our duty will be to hold
in check this filthy demon

and guide him against
his inclination

always to do whate'er
is great and noble.

You speak beautifully,
Tancred, but yet if the people

has ceased to believe that
you are leader?

Where the spirit is, there is
the victory. I will crush it.

But if the spirit is in the
people Will you descend to it?

Why, descend?

Won't it be nobler,
if I raise it up?

Brotherhood
seems to be a marvellous affair.

Don't jest. Oh, do not think that
I don't feel the sublime truth.

May it inspire all
who have the holy spark.

The man who struggles towards us
we receive with joy,

A sword tap lifts him
into our rank of knighthood;

But we must guard our Order's treasures,
against the chaos seething up against it.

When this knightly Order which you founded
like a lighthouse among the ocean's waves

goes out, it will fall half down and be
a greater danger to the hardy seamen

Than a reef which
never had a beacon.

Before our Order crumbles

its holy doctrines may have reached the
people; in that case nothing will be lost.

The holy doctrines

It's just they which always are a curse.
When by some chance you light upon them

you twist them and you point them you
split them and you sharpen them,

till they become a folly
and a fetter.

Observe this sword,

if by a hair's breadth it is bigger
or smaller, it still remains a sword,

You can proceed like
this indefinitely

and at what precise point
do you reach the limit?

But why do I exert myself?
This talk is tiring

Only just take a look round
for yourself.

Friends!

...my men are tired
and ask for shelter.

In the metropolis of Christendom
they surely do not ask in vain?

The question is: Aren't you more
heretical than the heathen?

Say, what do you believe,
Homo ousion Or Homoi ousion?

- I don't understand.
- Don't tell them. That's crucial.

Look, he's doubtful,
he is a false believer.

Cursed be he that
gives them shelter.

My father,

we are warriors of
the holy sepulchre

but the people of this town refuse us shelter
to rest ourselves after our toilsome journey.

You, who are so powerful,
help our cause.

My son, for paltry things
I can't now spare the time.

The glory of God,
the people's welfare call me.

I have to sit in judgment
on some heretics,

Who, strewing poison,
thrive like weeds.

Although with fire and sword
we extirpate them,

With renewed strength hell
always sends them to us

But albeit that you be crusaders why do you
seek out the Saracen in distant lands?

Here is a foe more dangerous.

Rise up then.

Up to their villages
and exterminate them.

Spare neither woman,
child, nor aged man.

My father,
you don't want these innocents.

The snake is harmless
when it's small,

Or if it has lost its poison
fang, but do you spare it?

Verily it must be

a monstrous sin, which inflames to
such anger the Church of Charity.

My son,

true charity does
not cajole the body

but leads the soul
to turn back again,

If needs be with fire and sword

These false believers,

in the mysterious doctrine of the Holy
Trinity, proclaim the Homoi ousion

While the Church has
made the Homo ousion

Into an article of faith.

My friends, abandon that iota.
It will be a finer sacrifice

to give up your lives fighting
heroically for the Holy Sepulchre.

Satan, tempt not,
for our true faith

We shed our blood
where God ordains.

Ha, shameless one!
Do you boast your faith is true?

Did not the Council of Rimini go with
us, and countless other Councils?

It went astray.

But did not Nicaea and other
orthodox councils pronounce for us?

Schismatics.

Have you even one Church father

Comparable with Arius
or the two Eusebius?

And have you got an Athanasius?

- Where are your martyrs?
- More than yours!

Fine Martyrs, whom the Devil tricked
with mystifications to a damned death.

I tell you, you
are great Babylon

that whore of whom St.
John wrote

and who'll perish
from the face of the of Earth.

You are the Beast with
seven heads Antichrist,

Antichrist, of whom St.
John speaks.

Knaves, frauds...

Slaves, snakes, and gluttons!

Comrades of the Devil!

To the pyre with them
for the glory of God.

For the glory of God,
you say well, scoundrel,

For the glory of God
the victim falls.

The idea lives,

and the flame which flares up, Will
lighten up the centuries to come.

Why do you stand so dumb,
tell me, what makes you shudder?

Do you see a tragedy in that?

Just look on it as if it were
a comedy and you'll enjoy it.

Alas, don't jest! For the sake of an
iota to go to death so resolutely?

What then is the
sublime, the grand?

That which perhaps is laughable to others.
These two ideas only differ by a thread.

Why have I to gaze
on all this sin,

Who is the sinner who
has cut it down?

It is danger which unites,
and makes the martyrs,

The sinner is the
triumph of the faith

which divides and creates a
hundred different interests.

I should turn back
to my northern home

where in the shadows of ancestral
forests human worth and pure simplicity

Defy the poison of
this polished age,

if a secret voice did
not for ever whisper

that 'twas my fate to
make this age anew.

Vain endeavour!

Never will you achieve that an
individual can withstand his age:

The age is a torrent
which sweeps along or drowns,

the individual is a
swimmer not a leader.

Who are successful,
have understood their century.

But have not brought
forth new ideas.

The cock's crow does not bring
the dawn of day,

But the cock crows
because the day is dawning.

Warriors, buy!
Buy the doctrine of penance

Which in all doubtful cases
will give you guidance,

It teaches you-for how many years
the murderer, the fornicator,

the church robber,
or the false witness

- will suffer in hell.
- This way.

And teaches that a rich man can redeem one
year's punishment with about a pound,

while a poor man can do
it for three shillings.

Buy this valuable book, buy!

- This way.
- One for us, too, holy father.

Save me, Champion.

How can a body be
so spiritual...

- A spiritual body?
- Oh...

oh Heaven, I thank thee.

Knight, you have saved me,
how can I thank you?

Is not a word from
you a rich reward?

A poor enough reward;
shan't I get even that?

And what thanks
should I owe to you?

Either I am grateful and the
like danger threatens me again,

or I am ungrateful
and so damned.

O lady, whither may I lead you.
Command me.

Before us stands the
cloister's door...

Ah, but its door will not shut
out all hope from me, will it?

And will these walls
shut you in too?

They will, but the key won't
be cast into the sea.

A great pity! What a sweet
elegy could be composed

Upon this doleful case.

Out of my sight, deceiver!

Give me a token, I will
pin it on this cross!

O lady!

Give me hope and not affliction.

Within the Cloister wall hope
does not grow.

Why, won't it then be a great idea when I
dive to the sea's depths to get your key?

I don't want that.

I'm off at once. The deep sea
monsters show their teeth at me.

Come back, come back,
I am dying of fright.

Perhaps after all the key
will be in my window.

Your raiment shows
you are not yet a nun.

Let me know your name at least.

Isaura is my name.
Knight, what is yours?

I am Tancred.

Tancred,

God be with you!

Isaura, oh, do not
leave me so hastily.

Brief has been this moment,
even for a dream.

How can I go on dreaming
if you remain a riddle,

and I am unable to weave into a web
the dear threads of your fate?

And don't you want
to know my fate?

...you loved, you were deceived, you loved
again, and that time you played false.

Again you loved-you grew
weary of your hero.

Your empty heart now seeks
for a new lodger.

I never should have thought you such a ninny
as to suppose that now my heart was empty.

Sir, be quick!

God be with you!

You coward-Have I got
to do everything?

The key will be in the
window, not in the sea.

And why, why! will this
wretched wall prevent me?

I who have so despoiled the heathen;
can I not scale this rampart?

You cannot, it is guarded
by the spirit of the age,

Mightier than you.

I am worn out,

I want to rest.

Rest then.

But I hardly think your spirit and your
restless strength will let you rest.

Who is it, who is burning over
there, a heretic or witch?

I don't know. It's not the
fashion now to take an interest.

Ah, what a falling off
from those good times.

On such a chilly evening
this fire comes in well.

Cast my horoscope, Kepler,

Last night I had bad dreams.

I am frightened with the
conjunctures of my star.

It shall be done, my lord,
as you command.

As soon as these
climacteric days are passed,

Let us again take
up the great task

which lately was
left unaccomplished.

I understand, your Majesty.

One word more.

There are bad rumours
in the court about you,

That you have become a believer
in new doctrines,

And criticise the dogmas
of the holy church.

Just at the time
when your mother lies in prison

Under a serious charge
of horrid witchcraft;

and there is reason
for suspecting you,

When stubbornly and indefatigably
you strive to set her free.

Your Majesty!

Surely I am her son.

The holy church, my son,
is your truer mother.

Let the world alone,
it is well as it is.

Don't like a bungler
try to better it.

Have I not overloaded
you with favours?

I raised you up
towards my throne,

and only by that did you obtain
the fair hand of Borbala Muller,

Therefore, my son, again I say
'Take heed!'

Oh, go away, sir knight,
for God's sake have pity.

My poor husband?

For God's sake, gentlemen,

spare him from such a suspicion.

Oh, sir, it's good
that we have met,

I want to make a journey to my property,
and wish to have a weather forecast.

But I, I want to know
my son's nativity,

Last night past
midnight he was born.

Both will be ready in
the morning, sirs.

The company disperses,

let's go, too.

Good-night, my lady.

- In an hour.
- In the arbour on the right.

Good-night, gentlemen.

Come, my dear John.

John, I must have some money.

I haven't got a filler,
you've already taken all.

Can I endure perpetual want?

The court ladies shine like peacocks So
that I am ashamed to appear among them.

Am I not worn out night and day?

I sell my knowledge
for your sake,

And I proclaim what I
well know is false.

What do I get from
these sinful gains?

In this world I have need of nothing
Except the night and shining stars,

The secret harmony
of the spheres.

All else be yours.

You, too, shall have
what I shall get to-morrow.

You throw into my
face your sacrifices,

But do I not, too,
sacrifice my life For you?

I am a daughter
of a noble house,

and have joined my fortune
to your doubtful rank.

Is it not through me that you
have attained to better society?

Are spirit and knowledge
of a doubtful rank?

Apart from that,
where is nobility?

What you call nobility is a mouldering,
decaying fetish, which has lost its soul,

mine is for ever
young and strong.

Oh, woman,

if you could understand me...

how endlessly I loved you!

I ought to leave you,

plucking out my heart,

And despite the pain
I might feel calmer,

and you, without me,
might be happier;

But the Church's
voice prevent us;

together we must
suffer till we die.

But, my John,

do not be so gloomy.

I do not want to
make you miserable.

We have made it up
now, haven't we?

Good-night!

Don't forget the money
in the morning.

The sphere she is born
into does the harm.

Hi, famulus!

Your orders, master?

A weather forecast
and a nativity is what I want,

prepare them on the spot. But
don't make them quite ridiculous.

I doubt if I could invent anything
Which would scandalise a parent;

isn't each new born baby a
Messiah, A brilliant star,

in its fond parent's eyes, and only
later on becomes the usual lout.

Bring wine!

I'm shivering,

This is a frosty world,
I needs must warm it.

In this pigmy age one
needs inspiriting.

Oh, limitless great
sky, open to me

Your book of mystery
and holiness,

If I by watching could
find out thy law,

I would forget the age
and all about me.

Thou art eternal,
while all else is fleeting.

Thou liftest me up,
while all else weighs me down.

Oh, I hear it, I hear it,
the song of the future,

I have found the word,
that mighty talisman

which shall rejuvenate
the aged earth.

Equality, fraternity, liberty.

Death to those who fail
to recognize them!

I say that, too.

Two words will save the great
idea attacked on every side

to all good men we say the one

"The country is in danger,
and they awake."

The other we thunder
at the miscreant

That word is "Tremble"
and they are destroyed.

Give us arms, only arms
and a leader!

That's right,

You only ask for arms though you
are suffering from so many wants:

Your clothes fall off in rags,
your feet are bare,

But by your bayonets
you will get all,

For you will be victorious.

The people is invincible.

Just now there flowed
the blood of a general

Who at the head of his troops
allowed himself to be defeated.

The traitor!

Put me in his place citizen,

and I will wipe out this stain.

Your self-confidence,
my friend, is praiseworthy,

but the guarantee
that you will keep your word,

must first be earned upon
the field of battle.

Good-bye, till after victory.

If only I could share their lot

But only strife, not
glory, comes to me.

No foe by whom to
fall 'tis glorious

My foe lurks thief-like
in his hiding-place

Plotting against me and
the holy fatherland.

Death, death to the aristocrats.

Let's go, let's go
to the dungeons,

Let's judge them,
the people judges righteously.

The danger is not there,

the bolts are strong!

Treason lifts its head and grins

and whets its dagger
on the Convention's benches.

To the Convention, then; it has
not yet been purged enough.

To the Convention later,

but first let's go for
practice to the dungeons.

What a noble pair.

Their proud faces and
their fine linen

are clear proofs of their crime.

I do not know what sympathy
draws me to you.

But at my own risk,
I will save you.

No, Danton, for if
we are criminals

You betray the country,
if you do not condemn us,

If we are not,
your clemency is futile.

Join our armies and
your career lies open.

I have no permission, citizen, from the
King to let me join a foreign army.

Why do you rush so rashly
to your death?

Do you suppose that
this noble prerogative

befits only you,
men of the people?

Do you defy me?

I will save you
against your will

and for this act a
soberer posterity

When party passion has
burnt out to ashes

Will give me thanks.

National guards!

To my quarters with him,

you shall answer for him.

This awful platform is my world.

As you stepped on to it,

a piece of heaven descended,
and enfolded me with holiness.

The consecrated victim
as it goes to death

ought not to suffer from the
flouts and jeers of priests.

Believe me,
it is I who am the victim.

Though I am envied for my power,

Midst this blood my loneliness torments
me. I feel how good 'twould be to love.

Oh, woman,

if but for one day you would
teach me that heavenly knowledge

on the morrow quietly I would
lay my head beneath the axe.

How can you yearn for love
in this world of horror?

Does not your
conscience terrify you?

Conscience is the ordinary
man's prerogative.

The man of destiny does not
have time to look about him.

When did you hear
of a hurricane which stopped

Because a weak rose was
bending o'er its path?

And who would have audacity enough
to judge the chosen of the people?

Are you not a woman,
am I not a man?

We should never
understand each other.

From those soft lips don't
utter such hard words.

Softer words aren't
fitting for the scaffold.

If now an enemy
or a good friend should see

He would laugh
and would not fear me any more.

And still:

I beg of you one ray of hope.

We have done justice!

O fate, who can withstand thee?

Now to the Convention,
Citizen, lead the way.

Have you made out the
list of traitors?

Spend a night with me,
great man.

In truth, citizen, it seems that you, too,
have become a blue-blooded aristocrat

You are a man,
I am a young woman,

My admiration draws me to you,
great man.

Woman, that my nights will be fewer than
the number of traitors in this country.

To the Convention,
to the Convention!

...only give us their names.

How should he name them?

He is the worst of all.

St. Just, you dare accuse me,

know you not how strong I am?

Formerly you were
among the people;

now they are wise and know you,

and will ratify the decree
of the Convention.

I recognise no judge above me
except the people,

and I know the
people is my friend.

Your friend is he
who is the country's enemy.

The sovereign people
soon will judge you.

Before it I accuse you,
traitor to your country,

Of trafficking with
public property

Of sympathising with
the aristocracy,

Of aspiring to be dictator.

St. Just, beware,

my word is thunder,

Arrest him in the
name of Liberty.

Robespierre,
you have only got a start.

That is the whole matter,
don't boast of it.

Don't let him speak!

From this place I summon you
In three months' time

to follow me this way.

There's no beheading
on this occasion.

Where am I?

Oh, where am I, where
are my dreams?

They have gone off
with the fumes, my master.

How splendid was the vision
that appeared to me.

Blind is the man who
cannot see God's spark,

If it has been besmeared
with blood and dirt.

Its vice, its virtue,
how gigantic

and how prodigious, both of them for they
were hall marked with the stamp of strength.

Oh, why did I wake up?

That gazing round I better should
perceive the smallness of the age

For God's sake, dearest,
calm yourself.

If we are noticed
you will cause a scandal.

Just so,
scandal is all you think about.

To you, a knight who
cannot brook reproach.

You mock at woman till the time

when she discards her virgin chastity as
a prejudice of her ancestors, then...

So it was nothing but a dream
and it is over.

But not entirely,

Ideas are more powerful than base
matter which violence can destroy.

Ideas live on for ever.

Sir, day advances,
it is your hour for teaching.

The young men
already impatiently assemble

To waylay one word
of your philosophy.

Don't mock, oh,
don't mock at knowledge.

Don't you instruct
many distinguished youths?

I don't instruct,
I only train them

You were so kind, sir,
as to invite me

- Promising to satisfy my thirst for knowledge.
- True, true.

Well, here I am,
my soul trembles with desire

To see into the
workshop of all nature

To comprehend all
and to increase my enjoyment,

Mastering the world of matter

Do not desire so much,
then perhaps you may succeed.

Whatever mysteries you
shall reveal, Great man,

will be a gain to me.

That's good.

I see that you are worthy.

You shall see reality
as I do myself,

Your hand on it that you will not
betray what you shall learn.

...in its essence I
understand nothing.

Well, you see, I do not and
believe me, no one else does.

Philosophy is only the poetry

of the things we can't conceive.

It is the meekest
of all sciences

Because by itself it
quietly beguiles the time

But it has numberless associates

Who pompously block our path

which by their sanctity serve
to protect the powers that be.

...will it be so for ever?

One day all that
will be laughed at,

The statesman
whom we call the great,

The orthodox whom we admire

posterity will view
as mountebanks.

Then take up these
yellow parchments

these mildewed folios,
and throw them all

Into the fire.

Why should you learn in books what
song is like, the nature of a forest,

while your life flows joyless
between the dusty chamber walls?

Together let's say
farewell to the school.

May your rosy youth lead you on to
the sunbeams and the songs of joy;

You guardian spirit of doubt,
lead me to the new world

which will develop...

But now life stands before
me in its fullness,

How beautiful,
how animated its song of strife.

Heard from a height it
has a hymn-like beauty.

The raucous voice,
the groan, the sigh,

blend to a melody
before it rises here.

That's how God hears;
that is why He believes

that He has fashioned
this world to be good.

The mossy walls
have tumbled down.

No more we see those phantom bugbears
haloed with sanctity, which the past

leaves to the future
a curst Legacy of pain.

The field of competition
opens free.

To-day we don't build
pyramids with stones.

At such a height as this we had not
heard the groans of slaves in Egypt

And yet how God-like
were their works.

This decayed point of view I cannot take,
down to the new world I go with firm resolve

And do not fear that I
shall not find again

Poetry and great ideas
amongst its surging billows.

You have no cause
to feel anxiety

As long as there is matter,
so long my power remains

as its negation
striving with it.

And law puts barriers to desire

so long will poetry and great ideas
live as negation in the spirit world.

This way, this way,
dear good gentlemen,

The show is just going to begin,

An amazingly diverting comedy

To see, how the snake beguiled the
first woman, then as now inquisitive,

and how she then ensnared
the man as well.

Ah, Adam,
here they are talking about us.

Oh, stop your pointless jokes.
Let's go on farther.

A pointless joke. Just see
how they enjoy them-selves

These pink-cheeked boys, who so
lately dozed on their forms.

You can see a frisky monkey how
with great dignity he apes a man.

You can see a bear
who is a dancing master.

This way, this way,
dear good gentlemen.

Does Shakespeare
really give you greater pleasure

Than these boys get
from these caricatures?

The caricature is just what
I can't stand.

The taste of ancient Greece
still sticks to you.

Why do you take up
this good place?

You're a fine bird.
The man who is tired of life

and hangs himself provides
a show for nothing.

Little violets,

first harbingers
Of beautiful spring. Buy; buy;

Little violets.

Little violets.

Little violets. Buy; buy.

Little violets.

Little violets. Buy...

This wretched flower always
competes with us

And we can't push
it out of fashion

But a fair neck requires
expensive pearls.

What lovely stuffs,
what expensive trinkets.

If only there was someone
to buy us some.

An up-to-date young man only does
that when he has bad intentions.

That's not so, they have lost their taste,
they are spoilt with caviare and prostitutes.

We'd see who would be master
and know how to enjoy himself.

- Sir, what can I do for you?
- Nothing.

Then get off from my bench,
you vagabonds,

Do you suppose
I live by thieving?

How dare you speak like that?

Ignore the rascal.

Well, let's be off,
let's go on seeing

how man is brutalised
to brutishness.

Is this not wonderful?

My fellow... Tell me, do you,
yourself, enjoy your music?

This is my place,
here is my license.

Have pity on me,
if you don't I die,

For a fortnight
I have been out of work.

Then you are no genuine beggar,

But a blackleg from heaven knows
where. I'll call the Police.

By Christ's five wounds,
give something to the cripple,

Kind ladies and gentlemen.

By Christ's five wounds...

This way, this way,
dear beautiful young lady,

No one can serve you
cheaper than I.

Don't you believe him,
his measures are false.

His wares are old.
This way, dear young lady.

Little violets...
Little violets...

A fair neck requires
expensive pearls.

Fairing...
Give something to the cripple...

Look, Lucifer, you hold
me back in this vile spot

while almost unperceived there
flutters by Felicity personified.

She comes from Church,

how beautiful she is.

She went there to be seen
and, perhaps, too, to see.

Your jest is cold,
don't soil her with it.

Devotion still is
hovering on her lips.

I see you are converted,
and you are becoming pietist.

In a young girl's heart
I want to have superstition.

What dignity,
what virgin modesty.

I hardly dare approach her.

Courage,
you're not a novice at the game,

On close inspection
she may be for sale.

- Quiet!
- She may be more expensive than the others.

This green boy, will he obtain what
my man's heart longs for in vain?

No doubt Arthur's parents
Are quite well off,

but I don't know what they may
think of his courting you,

So don't neglect
completely that bear

Who to-day surprised you
with this nosegay.

Allow me, ladies, to attend you, so that
you take no harm from all this crowd.

- What impudence!
- Be off, you forward fellow,

Can you suppose
she is the kind of girl

to whom anyone may
pay a compliment?

What else could anyone do?

I have often dreamed
Of woman's ideal perfection...

Dream what you like,
but all the same,

the man for whom
her charms unfold

won't be a good-for-nothing
lout like you.

O, precious lady,
wonder of the world,

Only show to me your
little white hand,

A handsome bridegroom
- ah, he's very near -

fine children,
health and fortune.

My sister, tell my
comrade's fortune, too.

I don't see clearly -
hunger or the gallows.

Don't turn away
from me like that.

Mother, won't you let.

I'll call the police,
if you don't clear off.

O divine poetry, hast thou entirely
vanished from this prosaic world?

Most decidedly not.
Don't be so fastidious,

There's matter enough
for your imagination.

High endeavour is
nowhere to be found.

That, too, is found
on the school benches,

where life is not
yet parsimonious.

Buck up, boys, we've left the dust behind
us, We'll have a jolly good time to-day.

Out to the country, I hate the town with
its regulations and its shopkeepers.

Let's try to have a
row with somebody.

If we drag off the girls out
of the arms of these Tommies.

Ripping, ripping,
we'll hang the Philistines.

A pleasing sight in
this dreary world,

I feel in it the germs
of better times.

You will see how
the germ develops.

Once it has shaken off
the classroom dust.

Do what I may, the competition
is too strong for me.

Everyone will have
the cheapest goods,

I am compelled to adulterate.

The workmen's wages
must come down.

It can't be done, they are
on the verge of striking,

Because they haven't got
a living wage, the dogs.

They ought to be dealt
with much more firmly.

Let them work in our
factories half the night,

the other half is quite
enough for sleep.

Why did you let me see them?

...where has that
maiden gone to?

Assist me and make
her listen to me.

Reply as I ask you
and in your arms she'll fall.

Now you see, my lord,
how disagreeable it is,

Disguised like this
to mix among the people.

Each moment we stumble
on a new insult.

I crave a word, you
are disguised.

I paid you out
with my prediction

because from me there's nothing hid.
for Satan's old associate am I.

Well, that's the limit,
you old hag.

A lovely girl is pining for you.

- How can I get her?
- Perhaps she is yours already.

But she refused...

Mark me,
she will return ere long.

Get out of my way!
Treat me with respect.

In learning my hair
has turned white,

As I the hidden
treasures of nature

Dug out with
indefatigable industry.

For man's advantage
have I toiled

and here I show the
glorious result.

What is this strange
fool, Lucifer?

This phial contains elixir vitae

Rejuvenator of the sick and old.

Science which plays the
mountebank that it may live.

Precisely as you
played the savant,

only more noise is needed
than of yore.

Gathered by great
Pharoahs of past times.

This is Tancred's magic philtre,

I never got as far as that.

This cosmetic was fair Helen's,

This book is Kepler's Astrology.

Do you hear what he's selling?

Buy, buy,
you'll never regret it,

A chance like this there
never was or will be.

Just look at these people,
atheists all the lot,

and yet they scramble
for a marvel.

That gentleman...

It's no good your talking,
we know who you are.

May I be damned if
all this isn't true.

Looked at from all sides,

that's a hundred times better than to
fade away with a shawl on your head.

Look at him, there he is
searching for you.

His hands are delicate,
he looks like a gentleman.

I'm not averse to his companion.

Look, there is the fair one;
how she pines for you.

I fly to her what bliss.

You must not forget
the go-between.

Could you buy a fairing for me?

- That cosmetic is good for everything.
- Don't be abashed.

Diamonds and pearls
I'll string on your fair neck.

Down over there I
saw many jewellers,

But that's not for a
poor girl like me.

How lovely, how sweet,
how I shall be envied.

But that heart
let me see it no more.

He's going to be hanged.
What luck that we are here.

Such an affecting sight and a fine
opportunity to shine in my jewels.

- What's the rascal's crime?
- I don't know.

He worked a good while
in Lovel's factory.

But lead's a poison
and he absorbed it constantly,

Then he spent many
weeks in hospital.

His charming wife was
reduced to poverty.

Lovel's son was young
and kind hearted...

The husband got well
and did not find his wife...

His place was filled,
in vain he looked for work.

This miserable man had
a knife in his hand

Let us stop, my
friend, only a moment

For me to lay my nosegay
at this holy picture.

Don't let her,
or it will be the end of us.

From childhood it
has been my habit

Not to forget this picture
as I pass by it.

Innocent child,
I'm not going to stop her.

My God, what's that?

Be quiet, my dear,
the folk are noticing

Far richer jewels shall
replace them on your neck.

Away from me, away! help,
have mercy!

A pair of swindlers
and a horrid old witch

have disgraced an honest woman.

They gave false coin,
they should be here.

Adam, let's go,
it's best not to stay here.

Again I am mistaken,

I believed it was enough to
overturn the phantoms of the past

and to secure that force
could freely act.

Dogs fighting for a bone,
that's what it is.

In place of this I
wish for a society

which without punishing protects, and
gives encouragement without fear,

and all unite their strength

To a common end
conceived by science,

an order ordered
by intelligence.

Presumptuous man,
because your narrow vision

Can see down there
a mere disordered throng

Do you suppose there
is no common aim,

no system in life's workshop?

Look, and see the work
that they accomplish.

They work for us,
and not for their small selves.

I have played out my comedy.
I amused you, but not myself.

Everyone has drunk up his wine.

My customers, good-night.

My little violets
are all sold out.

New ones will soon
grow on my grave.

I'm no longer drunk,
my paint has come off.

Here 'tis so cold,
will it be better down there?

Each one wished to
see his future,

now he shuts his eyes in terror.

We duped each other
with pretence of knowledge,

Now we are all
startled at the truth.

My riches did not bring me happiness, now
I shall get tranquility for nothing.

Remain, my chains,
on this vile earth.

Beyond this threshold
I expect juster laws.

Why do you stand,
yawning gulf, at my feet?

Don't suppose
that your blackness deters me.

Into it falls mere
earth-begotten dust.

I shall step over you in glory.

The spirit of love,
of poetry and youth

Opens for me the way
to my eternal country;

Here in this earth my smile
gives pleasure only

when, like a sunbeam,
it lights up a face.

Adam!

Recognize you her?

Ah, Eve,

Eve.

What country is this,
what people have we got to?

Those old ideas exist no more.

Wasn't country a
paltry conception

Originally begotten
by prejudice,

Then cherished by
narrowness and rivalry.

Now the whole earth
is one country,

All now are comrades
with a common aim,

And the calm course
of their fair ordered life

has for its guardian
Science which they revere.

My soul's ideal is
then accomplished,

All now is well,
as I desired it should be.

There's only one thing I regret
country,

that idea might,
I think, have remained

under this new regime.

Man's heart needs limitation,

the boundless frightens it, it loses
in intensity if it is dispersed,

Man clings to what is
past and what will be;

I fear that the inspiring force
of this great world.

I see you give up your idea,

Even before it has
been realised.

By no means think that,
but I should like to know

What is the spirit by which the
whole world is fused together?

Well, come along then.

...let's look at the museum,

It can't be matched
in all the world.

The extinct animals
of the ancient world

In genuine specimens are represented
there. All excellently stuffed.

- That is...
- Be careful Adam, you'll betray yourself.

Many strange tales about them
have come down to us.

Of this one, they
tell a tale that man

Kept him as a friend, gratis,
without working.

But what are the animals which
still survive?

Only such useful animals

as up till now science has not
found out how to replace,

The pig, die sheep,

but not nearly so imperfect as
they were made by bungling Nature.

...this enormous piece of coal

There used to be whole
mountains of this substance,

and men could find ready to hand

That which now science must extract
from air with immense labour.

This mineral here was called
iron and until it was exhausted

This little specimen is gold.

Show me something else,
I know all that.

Truly you are very learned,
stranger,

This little specimen of gold is
of great repute.

Well let us look at the
plants of past time,

See, there is the
last rose, which

with a hundred thousand others,

Took the most fertile places
from the waving corn.

Truly it was a singular sign of those times
how eagerly men cared for toys like these.

The spirit, too,
produced its flowers

poetry and the
chimaeras of belief

dissipated its best strength, so that
life's true end was never reached.

Here as a curiosity we preserve
Two of such works.

So there remain these few pages
as heirlooms from the great days.

But have not these the power to set
ablaze Their mongrel descendants,

rousing them to act And
overturn your artificial world?

A proper observation,

we have thought of that.

The poison they contain
is very deadly,

And therefore no one is allowed
to read them

who has not passed
the age of sixty years

and devoted his life to science.

Yet the nurse's fairy tales

Don't those inspire the tender
heart with vague presentiments?

They do.

and that is why our nurses
only tell the children

the truths of algebra
and geometry.

You murderers!

Let us pass on.

How gaudy are those thousand
other objects, how childish.

All were the wasteful
work of human hands.

Does water from that glass
taste more refreshing?

Is that arm-chair more
comfortable to sit on?

Now all these things
are machine-made.

their shape is simpler
and more suitable,

Perfect workmanship
is guaranteed

Because a man
who makes a screw to-day

Remains at screw-making
through all his days.

Then the work has no life, no individuality,
which lives on after the craftsman's death.

Where is the opportunity
for power and thought

upon this regular
and ordered world?

Is it nothing
to have attained fraternity?

What man now suffers
from material want?

Opinions such as yours
are really criminal.

Tell me,
what then is the idea

which is able so to inspire
these people for one common end?

With us it is the will to live.

When on this earth
man first appeared

'Twas like a well-stocked larder

man only needed to stretch out his hand
to gather in it everything he needed,

So he, unthinking, used it up

like a cheese mite;

and on its sweet intoxication
found time in fanciful hypotheses

to search for poetry
and stimulus.

But now,

since we have come to the last mouthful,
we must live sparingly; long ago we saw

the cheese was nearly done
and we should die of hunger.

And earth no longer bring
forth vegetation...

It's lucky that our talk has led to this
for this is just what I am working at.

Man has grown very old,
if to make

an organism he turns to
his alembic.

Look how it seethes,
look how it sparkles,

Now here, now there,
floating forms move,

In this heated,
well-closed flask,

But I within this flask
set bounds to it

and call it from its
obscure hiding-place.

I don't yet see a sign of life.

That will come soon.

I who have sought out

a hundred times
dissected life...

Each time you've only practised
on a corpse.

What are you jeering at?
Don't you see

It only wants a spark
to bring forth life.

But the spark,
where will you get that from?

Only one step more
and we have done it.

But he who has not made
this single step

Has done nothing,
knows nothing.

The others only get
you to the door

That step alone leads
to the sanctuary.

Oh, will there ever be a man
to make it?

It never shall be.

This alembic for me
is too small and too big.

Thou knowest me, Adam?

What is that for?

Work has stopped. This is the
time when faults are punished

and women and children
are distributed.

Let us go, then;
it is part of my work.

Number 30.

Here I am.

You have
overheated the boiler again,

It really looks as if you wanted
to endanger the entire phalanster.

You do not know the
magic lure of fire.

What's this I see. I recognise
that man. He was Luther.

You are talking nonsense,
so no dinner to-day.

But I will fan the fire
again tomorrow!

Number 209.

Here.

Three times already I have admonished you
for seeking a quarrel without cause.

Without cause,
because I don't complain?

Don't contradict.

Ah, Cassius,

Do you know me? I am he
who fought with you at Philippi.

Can a bad system,
mere theory come to this

That it impedes
and does not recognise

a noble heart like yours.

You will be treated
till you are tamed.

Number 400.

Yes, I heard you.

Once more you have been
so absorbed in dreaming

that your flock has
been doing damage.

To keep you awake
you shall kneel on peas.

Even on peas I shall
dream of beauty.

Oh, Plato, what a part is yours in
the community which you yearned for.

Number 72.

You left your work
against the rules.

...because I was always making chair
legs, and one of a most miserable shape.

I have often begged that I might
alter them. Permission was refused.

I wanted for a change To make
chair backs; but all in vain.

Michael-Angelo,

what hell it must be for the divinity
within your breast not to create.

For this breach of rule
you will go to your room

and not enjoy this
fine warm day.

To-day two children
have reached the age

when they no longer
need a mother's care,

The education
institute awaits them

Bring them forth.

What radiant apparition!

So in this dreary world
there still exists poetry.

What do you find in this common woman you,
who have tasted the kiss of Semiramis?

This child should be educated as a
doctor the other as a shepherd.

Well, take them off.

Don't touch him.
That's my child,

Take it away.
What are you stopping for?

Ah, my baby!

You men!
If aught of holiness is in you

leave that child to his mother.

You, stranger,
play a daring game.

If once we let revive
that ancient prejudice,

the family: at once would topple down
all the achievements of holy science.

What is your frigid
science to me?

Don't touch that child.

Oh, my child!

These two women have no mates,

let those step forth
who claim to pair with them.

A fanatic and a neurotic woman
will produce degenerates...

But I don't stand off,
if she wishes for me.

I am yours,
you high-souled man.

I love you, woman,
with a burning heart.

I love you, too,
and feel it is for ever.

This is sheer madness.

In this enlightened century
where does this come from?

A belated ray from
Eden's garden.

I've heard enough;
take them to the hospital.

We must be quick about it,
Adam, off we go.

This place appears so lone,
so strange.

I feel, how small the earth is,
so that it restricts

My lofty spirit,
and I yearn to quit its sphere;

But yet, alas,

I weep, that I have left it.

Ah, Lucifer!

Glance back upon our Earth.

The well-known landscape
with a hundred favourite spots

Is flattened out into
a featureless plain.

What was interesting is
all washed out.

What has become of that?

A grey patch
on a globe which, circling,

is lost to sight amid
a thousand comrades,

and that was our Earth.

Oh, Lucifer,

and then she

Must we remain parted
from her, too?

From our high point of view
you speak in vain,

Beauty is the first
thing to vanish,

after that greatness
and strength,

till nought remains for us,
but bare mathematics.

The stars remain behind us.

I see no end, I
feel no obstacle.

Loveless and strifeless to
what can life attain?

This deep cold
terrifies me, Lucifer!

If your great heroism
has reached its limit,

let us go back to play
our parts in the dust.

Who says that?
Onwards, onwards,

The pain will only
last till every tie

Which binds me to the earth
is severed finally.

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

my brain is confused,
my strength is drained away

Was it not a mere
fable that Antaeus,

could only live so long as he
was touching the dust of earth.

Yes, it is no mere myth.

You already know me,
the Spirit of the Earth.

'Tis I alone who breathe in you;
you know it.

Here is the boundary to which
my power extends.

If you return you'll live -
go on, and you'll perish.

I defy you,
you frighten me in vain,

My body may be yours,
my spirit is my own,

There is no limit to thought
and truth

they were prior to
your world of matter.

Vain man! try it and
have a monstrous fall.

Did its perfume exist
before the rose,

shape before bodies,
sunbeams before the sun?

If only you could see
your orphan soul

whirling round in endless space.

And all of your tense
feelings are merely

a radiation from this heap of
matter. which you call the earth;

and if'twere other than it is

it could no more exist for you.

The fair, the ugly,
happiness and hell

from my spirit alone
can be derived.

You shall not daunt me,
my soul aspires.

Adam, Adam,

God will not brook
that you approach him

and will destroy you utterly.

But

...will not death...

soon kill me?

This is my end.

Let this doll-god now
circle in the void

as a new planet, on which again

perhaps life will
develop for my benefit.

Too soon do you
exult, O Lucifer.

It's not so easy to
break from my kingdom.

Return to yourself, my son.

I live again.

I know it, for I suffer,

It is so frightful
to be annihilated.

Oh, Lucifer!
take me back to my earth

I mean to strive again
and shall be happy.

After so many trials
can you yet believe

That your new struggles won't be
useless? That you will reach your goal?

Really Man's childish heart
must be indomitable.

It is no matter.

The end, the ending of
the glorious fight.

The end is death,

life is a struggle

And man's end is the
struggle itself.

Truly fine comfort.

But to-morrow you will jeer at
what you fight for to-day.

True, true, but all the same,
although my ideas were foolish,

still they were inspired,

carrying humanity forward.

Have you forgotten
what the Savant said,

Your earth would freeze,
the struggle would be over.

If science does not defy it,

But it will defy it,
I feel, I know it.

What then?

Will there be struggle, greatness,
force in that artificial world,

well ordered according
to the theories of pure reason?

Only let it save the earth,

science will pass away. as all else
when its mission is fulfilled.

And then anew the
spirit will arise,

which will reanimate
it with new life.

Only lead me back
again, I burn to see.

Back, then.

Why have we come
to this endless world of ice

where death with hollow eyes
gazes upon us?

And the red-faced moon shines
from behind the mist

like a death lamp
in a sepulchre.

Oh, lead me where
the palms are green

to that fair land
of sun and scents.

We are there.

That blood-red ball is the sun,

beneath our feet
lies the equator.

Science has failed
to conquer destiny.

Monstrous world!

It's only good to die.

First, last man in this world:

I should like to know
how my race has fallen

In noble strife majestically

or wretchedly, shrinking
inch by inch,

void of all greatness
and not worth a tear?

Oh, if you are so vain
of your great soul,

You do not wish to stand at last
as witness by your own death-bed.

Who then can tell
which was reality?

The feeble moaning of
the final struggle

is mocking laughter at
our life of strife.

Why did I not perish
in the heights

Rather than thus myself
to hear my epitaph.

...calm yourself,
mankind still exists,

That degenerate form,
can that caricature

be the usurping heir
of my grandeur?

Why did you let me see
him, Lucifer? Truly

This consolation is worse
than my affliction.

Then gods really exist above us.

Stop! A word with you.

Have mercy, Lord,

I will sacrifice to you
the first seal I take

If you will only hear
me and not kill me.

What rightful claim
have you to that seal

That with its life
you should redeem your own?

That of the stronger: do I not see around
me how the swift fish devours the worm

The seal devours die fish,
and I the seal?

And the great spirit
will feed on you.

I know, I know,

but the short space of time which in
your clemency you will let me live,

I will purchase with
a bloody sacrifice.

- What a cowardly point of view.
- And have you acted differently?

The sole difference
between you is

That he sacrifices seals,
but you human beings

to the divinity which you have created
in your own likeness, as he does to his.

Almighty God,

Look down, and blush to see

how miserable is man, the
masterpiece of your creation.

Your comrade's very angry,
is he hungry, too?

On the contrary, he's angry
just because he is not hungry.

This is no time for
your bad jokes.

It's no joke, it's the fact.
You reason like a well-fed man,

while your comrade's philosophy
comes from an empty stomach.

With reason you won't vanquish one
another. You would agree at once,

if either you were hungry,
or if he were full.

The animal is
always first in you

And only when it is appeased man becomes
conscious, and in his great pride

despises his real nature.

Can many of you manage
to live in this place?

Yes, many, more than on
my fingers I can count.

I have, it's true, already killed
all my neighbours; but in vain,

new ones always come.

If you are God, I beg you let there
be fewer men and more seals.

Lucifer, let's go.
I have had enough.

Let us first take a
look at his wife.

Don't you find an old
acquaintance in her?

Embrace her:

you will mortally offend this
honourable man, if to his wife

you don't show such
an act of respect.

Help, Lucifer,
away from here.

Awake, awake,
your dream is over.

Horrible visions;
where have you gone to?

How all around me lives
and smiles just as I left it,

yet my heart is broken.

Presumptuous man!

You wish, perhaps, that the earth should
tremble, if a worm should perish.

Did I only dream,
or am I dreaming now,

And is life but a dream?

Why, why these moments
of consciousness,

That we may see
the horror of non-existence?

Do you shed tears?

It is mere cowardice not to
resist and to accept a blow

He who is strong, calmly gazes on
the eternal characters of destiny,

and does not grumble...

Such destiny directs events,

while you are its mere tool
which it thrusts on.

No, no, you lie,
the will is free.

I renounced paradise
for the sake of that.

In my dreams I have
learnt many things,

...and now I, of my own free
will, can take another path.

Each individual may be free

But the whole race is fettered;

Enthusiasm, like a torrent,
sweeps man on,

For one object to-day,
to-morrow for another.

The pyre will not be
lacking of its prey

And scoffers will
be there in plenty.

The statistician who collects the facts
vices and virtues in due proportions

beliefs, insanity and suicide...

Stop!

I can defy thee, too, O God.

Am I not the sole
man in the world?

One leap as the final scene

And I cry out:

The Comedy is over.

The last scene,
what balderdash!

Is not each minute an end
and a beginning?

Is it for this you have seen
some thousand years?

Adam...

If you give ear perhaps
it will be easier

Because what up till now was
doubtful is now quite certain:

The future.

What?

I know your face will smile
if I whisper.

But come a little nearer;

Oh, Adam,
I feel myself a mother.

Lord,

thou hast conquered.

Worm! Have you forgotten your greatness
for which you have to thank me?

What are you boasting of,
you foolish woman?

Your son in Eden was
conceived in sin

He brings all sin
and misery to the world.

If God so wills it, another will be
conceived in misery, who will efface it

by bringing brotherhood
into the world.

Up from the dust, you animal.

Arise, Adam,
I take you into my favour again.

I observe that here
a family scene develops,

beautiful perhaps to sentiment,

but endlessly boring
to the intellect.

I had best make off.

Lucifer. My words concern
you, too, so stay.

O Lord,

horrible sights
have tormented me.

I know not,
what truth is in them.

Tell me, oh, tell me,
what my fate will be;

Is my life bounded
by these narrow confines

struggling in which my soul is
strained like wine,

so that at last when
it is clarified

and dust absorbs it?

Or hast thou ordained the noble
spirit to a better fate?

Will my progeny in
time make progress

and be entitled to
draw nigh thy throne?

Do not enquire further
into those secrets

which God's hand in his beneficence
has hidden from your longing eyes.

If you perceived that your spirit's sojourn
on this earth was only transitory,

that beyond eternity awaits you

No longer would it be virtuous
to suffer here.

Should you see that dust
will absorb your soul

What then would urge you,
for some great idea

to renounce the enjoyment
of the fleeting moment?

Your arm is strong
your heart sublime;

The field which summons you
to work is endless,

And if you take good heed, you will
hear a voice unceasingly recalling

and uplifting you.
only follow that.

And if amidst the din of active
life, Heaven's voice is silenced

this weak woman
with a purer soul

Less near to the contamination
of the world

will hear it.

You, Lucifer, go on working;

Your feigned science,
your foolish negation

will be the yeast which
brings to fermentation

But your atonement
will be endless

perpetually seeing
what you desire to corrupt

Becoming a new germ
of beauty and nobility.

Ah, I heard the song,
thanks be to God.

I feel it, too,

and I will follow it.

Ah, but the end!

Would that I might forget it.

Man, I have spoken:
struggle and have faith.

I require strife,
a want of harmony

Which begets new strength
and gives us a new world.

The end is death,
life is a struggle

And man's end is the
struggle itself.

Translated by C. P. Sanger