Original subtitles

dedicated to

the Portuguese writer born in Lisbon in 1854

a naval officer and consul in Kobe who died in 1929

A film in 9 parts, based on the "9 CANTOS" by Chu Yuan

THE ISLE OF LOVE

CANTO I THE MONARCH OF THE EAST

On this propitious day...

On this day of favourable signs...

- ... let us lavish honour - ... and rapture

... on the Monarch of the Air.

That highest of all Monarchs.

With

ATSUKO NURAKUMO JUN TOYOKAWA

ERL TRENI LAI WANG

and YOSHIKO MITA as Ó-Yoné

Dialogue

Directors of Photography

The pebbles on my belt jingle.

Original Music

And from the carpet,

strewn with jewels and dangling jade,

why not pluck now...

The perfumed bouquet?

Raise now the drum sticks.

Beat now the drums.

Slowly, softly the choir sings

a gentle cadence.

But stridently...

His voice answers to the sound of flutes and sitars.

In magnificent robes

his Spirit wanders majestically.

And fragrant aromas pervade the altars.

And in a thousand chords five notes chime.

A film by

He is joyous and content.

His heart is at peace.

Alma Venus!

Oh, fertile Venus,

the mother of Lusitanian travellers,

joy to men and the Gods,

hominum divumque voluptas!

You, who under the sky's wandering signs,

fill the sea, that bearer of ships,

and the land with abundant harvests.

Thanks to you, all human species are born and created!

Thanks to you, they see light from the sun!

Te dea, te fugiunt venti,

te nublia caeli, adventumque tuum...

- Before me... - Before you, Goddess...

At my approach the winds drop,

the clouds disperse.

At my feet...

at my feet,

the industrious earth displays its delicate flowers.

Awakening the delights of love in everyone,

you inspire beings with the desire to perpetuate their species.

And since you govern nature alone,

and without you nothing can approach the divine shores of light

nor anything gentle or pleasing be created,

I call upon you to help in making this film,

that will speak to everyone watching

of the general harmony

that keeps beings and things at their opposite poles,

and thus will show them...

How,

when,

and where everything has a place.

- Then, raising his eyes to you... - Then, raising his eyes to me,

his head resting on my breast...

- He, hanging on your every word... - Every word from my lips...

... lingers to look at you.

Huic tu, diva...

Embrace him then, Goddess,

and with gentle words let your lips demand of him,

glorious Goddess...

... a haven of peace for those on this earth.

The Gods by their nature,

should enjoy immortal life and supreme peace.

And safe from pain and danger,

they will be masters of their own power,

indifferent to our services,

distanced from us and what most affects us.

In but a few years, we fear

that Gods will appear and we, mere humans will be.

At a time when, most awful thing,

the people suffered from being betrayed,

and seethed with such anger and pain,

there came a Portuguese

from Lisbon,

who boldly dared smash the bolted gate

of the motherland

and set off on a voyage.

The power of his mind

led him far beyond the volatile boundaries of the world.

The ancient, invisible dead,

still wander the ancient parapets.

- Where is our tomb? - Where is our tomb?

Black clouds sail above Suma!

The wheel of time turns back...

The clouds flee with the wind.

The wind is harsh.

How the clouds race!

Our love is born again like a budding leaf.

We slept the winter through.

But here it is spring, already!

"What people are these",

they asked?

Who are they?

Who were they?

From what land?

What were they seeking?

What seas have they crossed?

Who are they?

Where do they come from?

What do they seek?

Cut off, without news of my homeland,

yet constantly I see its shores in my mind's eye.

If at times perchance someone...

Should ask after me...

Say that I live alone...

- Soaked by the sea breeze... - On the shore of Suma!

CANTO II THE LORD AMIDST THE CLOUDS

I washed in orchid-scented water.

I bathed in a sweet aroma.

In my many coloured robes, I am like a flower.

Now the Spirit descends

in sweeping curves, aflame with infinite clarity.

Come to rest in the Lap of Life!

Its light shines like the sun.

Its light...

... shines like the moon.

Drawn by dragons,

dressed like a God,

here it comes, ephemeral.

Here...

... and there.

The pleasure of returning to my dear homeland,

my dear home,

and family!

Tea?

Our tea.

Pardon me, Isabel, but I feel so at home here...

We've spent so much time here speaking... of him!

I will serve my brother.

Don't be offended.

It's delights at his arrival!

The excitement of departure!

Wenceslau de Moraes never stops.

He's barely set foot on dry land and the waves beckon again.

A nomad of the seas.

At sea...

So much torment and harm...

- So often death... - Water, to quench fire within him...

Take care!

Wenceslau, my friend!

I find you very much the dandy.

Very foreign.

Good heavens!

Have you seen a dandy on a cruise on the Mozambique Channel,

undone by the heat, bitten by mosquitoes?

What a contrast!

A foreigner lost in search of sovereignty in this boundless Empire.

What a fiction!

My poor brother!

Plagued by longing!

Yet he always returns.

You always come back to your sister...

... don't you?

My Francisca!

Always ready to share my misfortune.

Paint him now.

Don't move, Wenceslau!

You are about to round the Cape of Storms.

The Master commands.

These are the delights of this isle.

Who told you I'm the one who follows you?

Who told you I'm the one who obeys?

And what do you have to say about the Pink Map?

Portugal is stretched to the limit.

From Angola to the opposite coast.

It looks very effective, I don't deny,

drawn on a map and painted pink.

But to occupy it and stay there,

to colonise,

develop, instruct,

trade...

Pure megalomania!

Blind, completely blind!

In short...

A pleasant dream!

And cunning Bismarck protecting us,

and France in cahoots applauding us.

All that for what? For our pretty eyes?

To undermine England?

The Marquis of Pombal said that England and Portugal

are like man and wife.

They can bicker between them,

but if an outsider dares disturb their domestic peace,

they will unite to defend it.

Beware!

Times have changed.

You're blind!

Mad!

The pink map!

Faded pink, dry pink, derisory pink...

... like blood oozing through our bandages!

I would say defeuillé pink, deflowered homeland.

We were fooled, my boy.

The greys, dear Francisca, if you don't mind.

We were fooled!

Pink!

- Betrayed! - He didn't deserve that!

He didn't deserve this country.

Along comes the enemy.

Pressing forward.

Yet he never loses hope that his ill fortune...

... Will turn.

In this world,

so much war!

So much deceit!

So much need...

... and tedium.

What we need

... is another earthquake,

to bury all these maps!

This kingdom!

Of which, you my friend, are a well-loved painter,

the distinguished artist. - Let me least at leave.

And these ladies...

Who will help them?

Leave, my brother.

An earthquake, dear?

Rather the plague!

What an idea!

And what about me?

Rather Timor.

And you, unable to flee!

Who told you I'm the one who follows you?

CANTO III THE PRINCESS OF CHIANG

"The princess awaits someone on this vast isle"

So... Mars in the 9th House, right, Violet?

In the Middle Palace, 1st House.

This is an auspicious year for you.

This year,

the way is favourable to the West and the Northeast.

Guam has sold out.

I can't understand a thing!

Is it a good...

... or a bad year for me?

It's an auspicious year.

A year of service to others.

A sign of good human contact.

Can you see a marriage there?

Tell me what mine will be like.

I wish I was far from here...

"Shouting such discordant sentences,"

"when we spread our wings to the calm and gentle wind,"

"and from the well-loved port set sail,"

"saying: 'Bon voyage!'"

And left behind in that beloved land...

... a heart whose hurt pinned it there.

Come!

- You're coming with me! - Quiet!

Don't ask that of me.

I cannot leave him.

Can't you see how much he needs me?

And me?

I won't go alone!

What fear is this?

I know not what change my soul foresees...

Love?

I know not if that is that,

But I do know I cherish you.

You are young.

You are healthy.

He would not bear it.

Leave him.

Leave all this!

Run away from him!

No, no.

The very idea!

What a torment!

What an affliction!

Love?

I know not if that is that,

but I do know I cherish you.

That I would suffer to know you suffered.

I never feel well where I am.

I never fully enjoy a place

or a situation.

Pleasure never holds triumphant reign over me!

Run away, then...

Will you run away with me?

No.

I've already said I won't.

Ungrateful!

Coward!

My enemy!

No, my love, that I am not.

What would become of him?

He is infirm!

This is infernal!

I shall die of longing.

No...

No!

Perfidious!

Perfidious Albion!

Fellow Portuguese!

The country is in danger!

Let those who have betrayed our land, die!

Die!

Our ally has betrayed us,

but Portugal will not die.

Long live Portugal! Death to England!

Long live Portugal!

Death to England!

Die!

Die!

No!

No.

I don't want to!

I can't!

- You're coming. - No.

- Yes! - No.

Don't!

On its knees, tunic thorn,

the country agonises.

Kiss its forehead,

take it in your arms!

It won't die!

Leave him.

Let him die.

I won't let you go.

I won't leave you.

I will tie you down!

I will drag you by the hair!

I will drag you down with me!

Bunch of slaves,

libertines,

who hear nothing, not even the homeland's cries.

It is feeble,

waning,

crumbling!

It is already dead!

The homeland is dead!

Off I go, to play the hero,

out to sea...

Heroes of the sea

Noble people

Valiant nation

Freed of this burning passion...

Immortal

And mortal!

Raise again, today

Today, alone again...

The splendour of Portugal

The iron lady of Portugal.

In the mists of memory

- Silly. - That will stay in my memory.

Oh homeland Hear the voice

Of your illustrious ancestors

Don't raise your voice!

To carry you to victory

I have been carried away...

Yes, carried away!

To arms! To arms!

On land and on the sea

To arms! To arms!

Fight for your homeland

I saw the light...

... in a lost country.

I saw the light...

in a lost...

country...

Period.

My soul is limp and helpless.

My soul...

is limp...

... and helpless.

If you can, slip by without a noise...

No noise!

Slink into the soil...

... like a worm.

Get out of here!

Chinese monkey!

Stop your noise!

Go away!

Slink...

into the soil...

... like a worm.

It's a miniature of the ones I bought in Japan.

We arm ourselves, my boy!

Against whatever comes.

It seems that this time it's for real.

This must be an affliction,

but you know...

I don't scare,

I don't rebel...

I don't tremble.

In short, it's all one to me!

I feel so far from it all!

Ah, my forebears...!

Illustrious dreamers...!

What worm have you raised!

A natural son, yes.

Son of a homeland unknown!

What bitterness!

Longings, my lad...

That's what you have.

Excellent! The perfect Lusitanian cliché!

Two Portuguese,

with their Asian wives and respective half-caste progeny,

sheltered by the shadow of Camões' statue.

He must have spent long hours walking here,

like us.

Walking his Bohemian melancholy,

this poor "advocate of the dead and missing",

or whatever he was!

A victim of his bosses' arrogance.

Advocate of the dead and missing!

Whatever he was, it had to be more attractive

than my lot as chief officer of Macau Naval Command.

As for me, my friend,

poet,

lawyer,

school teacher,

me...

head of the family,

(what a gaping abyss...)

and idolizer of the "divine"...

The divine drug...

(what an abyss, what a gaping chasm!)

Yes, yes.

"Dead or missing."

I think I'll stay here and stroll around.

I think I'll die...

... here, one day,

here one last time.

It's a hostile land,

filthy,

out of harmony!

I can't get over the Great Wall!

No, this certainly isn't my haven.

The guitar string is broken

But our love will never end

The guitar string is broken

But our love will never end

My God, I will punish these girls.

They have left Mr Moraes in the corridor.

Where is Atchan?

Come, come, I will pour you some tea.

I want Atchan.

After years of marriage and two children,

you still love your wife!

I'm not surprised the girls of Macau prefer the Portuguese.

Be quiet! Call Atchan!

Atchan has work to do.

What work?

Mr Moraes! Don't take it like that.

A daughter must visit her mother even after her marriage.

It's a sign of fine sentiments which make her a good wife.

Why do you have such little faith in her?

Be quiet!

If Atchan doesn't come right away, it's all over.

Finished.

Very well.

Moraes!

Why have you come here?

I'm sorry, I meant to be home before you.

I'll be there right away. Go home.

The maid is taking care of the children.

Come home.

You're not coming back here again.

Why not? I must visit my mother sometimes.

This is no place for an honest woman.

You know I was brought up in this house.

I miss it.

And I miss my friends.

I am to blame, if I serve you well or ill.

That's just it.

It is my fault.

I have only one body.

I cannot be a good wife

and at the same time help my mother!

Atchan...

We're going to Japan.

Together.

To Japan? To do what?

It's a pretty country and they're good people.

Good people?!

You don't know what they do in China...

They're murderers, thieves, bandits!

That's what they are!

I hate the Japanese!

Go there alone!

All alone.

All alone?

Come, Atchan!

I need you.

Right away.

CANTO IV THE LADY OF CHIANG

"My love called me. I took my chariot"

Our carriage has arrived now at the beach in Suma,

on the outskirts of Kobe.

A spot that has been famous for almost exactly 1000 years.

The site of passions,

exiles,

battles,

deaths in the flower of youth,

the people will never forget.

Every year, from ancient times,

poets, story-tellers,

painters,

theatre folk,

revive in the minds of those who listen and watch

memories of the past.

Look.

Look carefully.

Ó-Yoné, a cold slight breeze is blowing.

Do you feel well?

Very well.

It's so long since I was last at the seaside...

Six months in bed...

Ó-Yoné, you're still unwell when you are up.

I worry about you!

You worry too much!

You don't let me work or go out.

"Don't do this! Don't do that!"

I want to go out!

How well I feel here!

What if we travelled?

Are you ashamed of me?

I don't mind, but...

Ashamed?

What an idea!

Ó-Yoné...

You're so lovely!

I don't want to show you to anyone.

Mr Moraes!

I'm already old!

Ó-Yoné, you're the most beautiful of all!

The only one for me.

The rout in battle

In the Valley of Life

The fatal rout of the Heike nobles

In the chill of dawn

Can still be felt

The wind of Suma

And still can be heard

The "Green Leaf" flute

What a lovely song!

So lovely!

It tells of Atsumori.

Of Atsumori and his flute.

Flute?

Yes, flute!

Atsumori played the flute very well.

Even when he was killed he had his flute with him.

This beautiful hieratic shape of the tomb,

that dated back to ancient times,

the Buddhists call it Gorinto:

the tower of five elements.

The block of stone resting on the ground is the cube,

the others represent successively the sphere,

the pyramid,

the crescent

and the piriform.

The five shapes symbolize earth,

water, fire, air

and the void,

the five principal elements of the universe.

We contemplated the tomb of Atsumori

with respect.

The antiquity of the event,

over 700 years ago,

the serenity of the place and the tragic quest of the young knight

all competed to move us.

Poor Taira!

Gradually, we felt such ease in that place

that we touched the granite in a gentle caress.

The spectacle our two friendly hands offered

was most unusual.

Mine, the crude, quasi deformed hand of the tall blond man from Europe;

hers, the fine, tiny hand of a delicate child of Nippon,

caressing the rough, grey surface of the tomb-like stones.

We felt the warmth of existence in them,

a palpitation,

as if blood pulsated within.

Now I build an alcove In the deepest depths

The roof is of lotus leaves

The walls of fennel

The floor of sea snails

I scatter scented pepper All around

We should send the postcards soon,

to your sister Francisca in Portugal.

And also some nasturtium seeds.

Fu-ran-cis-ca!

What has become of her?

Francisca.

Ri-su-bon.

Your Lisbon...

My Tokushima!

Soon, it will be the Festival of the Dead.

Shall we go there together this time?

I would like to go there,

one last time...

Oh, the cherry blossom

On Mount Bizan

In the Dance of the Dead

Now you will

Hear about

Ancient Tokushima

Ó-Yoné...

Ó-Yoné...

Is that the song of the Festival of the Dead?

Ó-Yoné...

Not so long ago, someone,

taking my hands in hers,

asked me to save her life.

And I didn't do as she asked.

It was not in my power to do so.

Stuttering words of resignation,

she squeezed my hands

with one last effort...

(I still feel her grasp)

... and let herself die.

Columns of cassia Beams of orchid wood

Lintels of magnolia An alcove in white angelica

A hundred plants I scattered in the courtyard

A hundred different aromas Flood through the doorways

Will you be much longer?

I'm tired.

Me too!

You could have chosen another model!

It's always me!

Why change, if I can't choose another Republic?

"You two are just the same."

"How I envy you!"

"The same sparkle in your eyes,"

"the serene, assured smiles of those not touched by time!"

"That is how I imagine the Gods."

What Gods, brother?

The ones I know nevertheless get headaches!

But if that's how you want us,

if it makes you feel more... human,

then very well,

we won't change...

A postcard from Wenceslau.

- At last! - I got one, too!

It's over there! You can read it.

Keep still! Leave the postcard!

He says we haven't changed, can you imagine!

He was surprised by our portrait!

He says time doesn't pass in Portugal.

Everything's the same,

he says,

as when he left.

The fantasies of one who no longer lives in this world!

He says exactly the same to me!

The things women love to hear!

A touch of courtship and gallantry. That's what they want!

That's enough!

I can't stand it anymore.

- Go to hell! - Come, come...

Mad, shameless creature!

Good grief! What on earth?!

You've both gone mad!

If you dance

Continue on

In beauty

Do you want to play shamisen, aunty?

Can we go to the Festival of the Dead this year?

Last time, the typhoon meant there was no festival!

I was so sad!

When I look into the distance, everything mists over

and I see the turbulent water.

Would a young buck graze in a garden?

What would a dragon do on the banks of the river?

In the morning, I gallop along the shore.

In the evening, I head towards the West.

These pages take me back to my homeland.

Then keep me imprisoned on my return,

anxious for these magazines and newspapers

that my friends sometimes forget to send me!

It's for the magazine "Os Serões".

The one that Francisca will read out loud excitedly.

Look, uncle!

Fools are watching The fools who are dancing

All are fools And those who can't dance, lose

And after 17 years away, he is intimately living

what, at the start, had seemed so exotic to him.

Uncle, don't you want to go to the Dance of the Dead?

If all are fools, those who don't dance, lose!

Ó-Yoné wants to go,

Ko-Haru wants to go, too.

Let's all go!

Aunty, Mr Moraes says we're going!

But I don't have a kimono!

Don't worry about the kimono, Ko-Haru!

I'll give you one.

Will you really? How kind you are!

Mr Moraes says he will buy me a kimono!

This girl...!

And my faithful gaze Will cross the sea

To embrace you in mute tribute

Like a poor, grateful dog

A friend of mine, a Russian doctor,

used to say that as the dog was the only symbol of faithful love,

he would like to be reincarnated as one.

And if such things depended on us, I'd do the same.

Faithfulness?

Faithful love?

It truly is a dog's life!

Ambitious creature!

Who has the knowledge to choose life?

Who has the power to postpone death?

And love?

What mechanism does it propel?

Yes...

Poor Ó-Yoné is dying.

Her heart is very weak, the heart of a little bird.

She is going to die for the first time.

I, too, will flee the living, I'll go to Tokushima, her province,

to be near her tomb.

Farewell, Kobe!

The Portuguese consul in Kobe will disappear.

He's going to live all alone with his suffering,

his heartache and his writing.

He will die in Tokushima, of senility and insignificance.

Would you like some watermelon?

It's refreshing.

There's a Japanese saying that goes:

"The Devil laughs at our plans for the following year."

Who's to say that what we desire today

is what we'll desire tomorrow?

Meeting is the beginning of separation.

From this mountain of Nine Doubts

descends a clouds of Spirits.

They come to fetch her.

Has the bird enough water for its bath?

Have you changed the water?

Don't worry.

There's plenty of water!

Clean water.

Forgive me.

I am good for nothing!

I just want you to look after my bird!

One cannot rely on the servants and Ko-Haru.

They do not think of these little things.

Have you had a clean shirt every day?

I have told the servants, but...

while I am ill, you must remember,

if I do not remind you.

Don't worry, Ó-Yoné.

You cannot always wear the same clothes,

and the same...

... shoes and ties. - Yes, yes, Ó-Yoné.

And in autumn...

... the eiderdowns must be aired.

Open wide the doors of heaven.

I depart.

A bud in the gloomy mist.

May the hurricanes carry me off!

May the heavy rains

dampen the dust of the earth!

CANTO V THE GREAT LORD OF LIVES

On the 16th of the 2nd lunar month,

Tsurayuki writes in his journal:

"That evening,"

"we left for Kyoto."

"When I arrived home,"

"and entered the house,"

"I could see everything, in the light of the moon."

"I found the house in ruins, devastated,"

"far worse than they'd said."

"The heart of the man looking after it"

"was hardly in a better state."

"There was a little water left in a kind of pond,"

"and nearby was a pine tree"

"that in just 5 years had aged a thousand."

"One of its branches had disappeared."

"On the ground, little pines sprouted here and there."

"But I said nothing out loud..."

"Of the past, not one memory failed to assault me."

"Particularly that of the child who'd been born in this house"

"and who didn't come back with us."

"Meanwhile,"

"our..."

"fellow..."

"... travellers"

"hugged..."

"... their children."

Born at dawn, die at dusk.

Such is life... the foaming waters.

Who knows from whence they come and where they go,

these people who are born and who die?

In this transitory existence,

who knows to what end we labour

and what compensation awaits us?

The master of the house or the house itself

no one can say which will disappear soonest.

Both are comparable to the dew on the flower.

Either the dew falls and the flower remains,

but will wilt in the first rays of the radiant sun,

or the flower dies and the dew persists,

but will disappear before nightfall...

"It was worth noting"

"that when a man and a woman love each other greatly"

"the one who loved the most"

"was always the first to perish."

"Was always the first..."

"to perish..."

To languish.

To perish....!

Nothing diverts the hearts of men so far from the right path

than carnal passion.

Although one knows that perfume is no more than a loan,

a scent that impregnates the clothes for a short time,

the heart nevertheless beats stronger,

when one breathes in that dear aroma.

The hermit, Kumé,

on seeing the white leg of a woman washing clothes,

was distracted,

lost his balance

and fell

from the cloud he'd been sitting on,

and thus lost the supernatural power he'd enjoyed.

And that is understandable,

because the elegance of a well-turned arm

or a leg,

or the pallor of skin,

are not commonplace things.

It's you! You've arrived at the right moment!

- Ko-Haru! - I'm coming.

- Wait a little. - Where are you going?

Why have you come to work here?

- On account of my mother! - Your mother! Nonsense!

More likely on account of him, your aunt's bearded friend.

Your mother wanted to offload her daughter.

What? Moraes is already old!

One foot in the grave, as he says...

Old! That's what they say...

Don't talk nonsense!

Look, I've made you a little meal.

I don't want it.

Take my mother's food as well.

Ko-Haru!

- The tea! - I'm coming!

I'll wait for you.

One, two, one...

No, here, here!

And again...

Forward.

If you dance

Dance with grace!

Your tea.

When I die,

on the day of the Festival of the Dead,

I'll come back to see you dancing!

A soul in suffering!

Don't say that to me, I'm afraid!

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Old as I am,

in very little time I'll be dead.

I am alone...

... which is sad.

Ko-Haru...

I would like you to stay here, near me.

Well, Mr Moraes! Let us dance!

Ko-Haru!

Ko-Haru!

What's wrong, Ko-Haru?

My stomach hurts!

You've eaten too much, is that it?

Yes.

My stomach hurts.

Ko-Haru, you're better now, aren't you?

Yes, certainly.

Ko-Haru...

When living things die,

they are reincarnated as another being.

The soul never dies.

Is that true?

Then perhaps aunt Ó-Yoné has been reincarnated, too.

Perhaps...

But one doesn't know as what.

Perhaps as a dog.

Perhaps as a bird.

It's a shame not to know.

And you? Do you know what has become of her?

She loved you so much,

that you must know.

Take Mr Moraes to her!

Take him to her!

It's a pet bird!

I cannot allow this!

Mr Moraes! My aunt will be angry.

No.

Ó-Yoné was so good!

She allows me to do everything!

You say she allows you to do everything?

Allows... doesn't allow...

Allows... doesn't allow...

I can't bear to look at this face!

Ó-Yoné...

Where must Ó-Yoné be now?

Surely my aunt...

... has come back for the Festival of the Dead.

Perhaps, but I at least have not seen her!

I haven't managed to meet her!

Have you seen her?

It's not a question of seeing!

But she has surely come back for the Festival.

Ko-Haru...

The souls of the dead have such power...

... that if we truly saw them,

our eyes would be blinded.

We might even die.

How good Ó-Yoné was!

Now she has gone,

we won't ever see her again.

But I want to see her!

You spend your life speaking about the dead!

I've had enough of this talk!

What about the living?

I'm living!

"Every Jack has his Jill"

"They don't know what will happen to them"

"The Devil laughs at our plans for the following year."

And heartily!

With Spring Came joyful news

While up above Wenceslau got on with his writing

Down in the kitchen Ko-Haru was very inviting

The servant-child Would come and go

And soon her tummy Big did grow

Though Wenceslau saw it not

All the neighbours Gossiped and laughed a lot

Only Wenceslau Gave no thought

To her tummy that stretched And grew more taut

Ko-Haru!

The little one is my son!

Go away, bogey man

Get off the roof above

Sleep little one, sleep

Nestle warm as a dove

Ko-Haru!

This is not my son!

What have you done, Ko-Haru?

Whose child is this?

Get out of here!

Right away!

Out!

Mr Moraes has sent me away. What shall I do?

What do you want me to do?

He says the child is not his...

Then whose is it?

It's yours!

This is Asataro, the worst ruffian in Tomida,

a wretched place.

The young girl's neighbour, then her fiancé,

then her lover and...

... what's the expression?

Degenerate father.

Creole children have blue eyes and fair hair!

But isn't it true you sleep with the old man?

Now he says the child isn't his!

The old rogue!

This is your son.

Where is that written?

How can you say that?

What am I to do?

Out!

Libertine!

Out!

Out!

- Shameless hussy! - Out!

Out!

- Out... - Giddy fool!

The grandmother takes pity On the mother and child

Thread upon thread A garment is made

Two more mouths

A headache indeed!

The child has the breast From which to feed

But the mother no such luck

My little son.

My poor little son!

We have nowhere to go.

What can we do?

Is she wanted to, she could come back, I've told her.

The child is well nourished, but what about you, Ko-Haru?

Look at you, so skinny and frail!

Leave the boy with his grandmother and come back.

24th August, 1914.

"The war, the war", he writes.

"The first news of the war"

"fell on my ears like a bomb!"

"A war already predicted to be horrific,"

"and how!"

Minutes from the Municipal Assembly of Tokushima:

"Since the beginning of the war in Europe,"

"some heartless native people, hostile to foreigners,"

"and who consider all Europeans are Germans,"

"have thrown stones at Mr Moraes."

"The police have been told to look out for them."

Hey, German!

Get out, mad dog!

You are a spy!

We know you are!

Spy!

Spy!

Winter and war A duo to fear

Holed up at home Cold and afraid

A pitiful figure Wenceslau made

Loyal at his side Ko-Haru held him tight

At once keeping him warm And awake through the night

What lovers that pair!

In the cold night air

The neighbours now To spying do take

But now Wenceslau His stupor does shake

And Ko-Haru's tummy Once more grew great

"Declaration of Deputy No.30:"

"This Portuguese subject complains"

"of being taken for a German spy,"

"a fact he deplores."

"He has presented proof to the police,"

"but the harassment continues."

These cigarettes were given me by His Majesty, the Emperor,

whom I greatly admire.

And has this Imperial present not prevented your spying?

It's a mistake!

I am not German.

I am not a spy. I am Portuguese!

We now very well you are a spy!

I like the Japanese so much!

What impudence! Swine!

My son!

My son!

All powerful God!

My little son is precious

My precious

Child of gold

I'll take him to heaven

Before he can grow old

Now I have a Japanese son people will be less violent.

Perhaps Ko-Haru's mother will accept me in the family vault when I die...

But the one who is dead is the baby!

He died two days after his birth.

My little son is a fine gem

Ko-Haru wanted to take him away,

but Moraes wouldn't let her.

Don't go, my little one.

You will stay at home, won't you?

Ko-Haru began to complain of aches here and there,

unable to say exactly where.

Several weeks later she fainted onto her bed,

tuberculosis in her left lung.

Poor Ko-Haru!

Where should I massage you?

Here?

Or here?

There now.

I'll get you some medicine.

Tomorrow, we'll go to the hospital.

I'll stay with you.

Don't be afraid.

Where is the good in so much grief?

If everything could stay like this forever!

But man's fate is preordained.

Encounter or missed encounters, neither can be avoided.

"I dreamt last night I was dying",

is what poor Ko-Haru will say, when she awakens one morning.

"I dreamt last night I was dying."

And she won't be mistaken.

"How strange all this seems to me! A fancy, a dream!"

"These streets, this people,"

"strains from tightly wound instruments"

"tremble in the air..."

"And stranger still,"

"if I think of the armies of millions of men"

"who are, at this time, killing one another"

"hallucinations the colour of blood"

"the cries of the wounded,"

"the artillery thunder,"

"on European soil."

"I rest my gaze on this tiny army"

"of 70 thousand men."

That's the population of Tokushima.

"This tiny little army..."

"... breaking out in dance!"

CANTO VI THE LITTLE LORD OF LIVES

There's no greater sadness than a cruel separation.

There's no greater pleasure than friends reuniting.

Her life was ebbing away.

Day after day, hour after hour.

Because she did not eat!

The terrible disgust consumptives have,

their invincible, insurmountable repugnance for food!

Only those who watch them can understand

this incredible lack of appetite in consumptives.

Ko-Haru likes bananas so much.

Can you eat a little?

If there is any left over...

... I'll eat it.

An overwhelming repugnance, revulsion seized me.

I threw the rest of the banana down in disgust.

Brute!

I could and I should spare her this anguish.

Brute!

The remorse this caused me

would surely gnaw at me forever.

But who can escape such atavistic repulsion,

when reason, prudence,

esteem

and pity cease to speak,

and only the uncontrollable beast in each of us

decides instead?

In Japan, it is a common custom to announce noon by firing a cannon.

This custom reached Tokushima only a short while ago.

A province,

a land without clocks.

Thank you.

Thank you!

I can go on...

... no longer.

This evening...

... I'll return.

There's no greater pleasure

than friends reuniting.

There's no greater suffering

than a cruel separation.

CANTO VII THE LORD OF THE EAST

The sky shimmers.

In the East, the God of the Sun rises.

The tree of the Orient

illuminates my veranda.

I urge on to the horses.

I go slowly forward.

Day breaks.

The light grows.

The heart hesitates if it looks back.

To dance to the sound of music!

The charm of beauty!

If my heart sees it, it is lost

and forgets the voyage!

You all, who were young in my time,

the same age as me, at the same school,

in the same course, in the same career,

who crossed the seas,

who spent long years of your lives in the colonies,

won't you then, tell me, please,

what you dream of?

We say of our dead: let the earth be light on them!

The Japanese of Tokushima cannot say that of their dead,

because the earth does not weigh upon them.

We say of our dead:

may they rest in peace.

Ó-Yoné!

Ó-Yoné!

Ó-Yoné!

Ó-Yoné!

I can no longer see anything!

I placed all my hope

in living in the same world as him.

But being here serves for nothing,

and these remainders...

... are nothing!

Yesterday has passed.

Today...

Of tomorrow I know nothing!

The past comes into mind

as if it were today.

My eyelids close shut.

Anxious, to not stay awake.

The terrifying, lonely nights!

Falsehood...

... upon falsehood!

Shall we weep with regret only a hundred years from now?

The terrifying lonely nights!

Cease these thoughts.

Gaze not into the abyss.

Torrents of tears!

What ruin!

Listen!

If you look...

You see his dead!

So many shipwrecks...!

Sleep now.

Addictions!

A yawning chasm!

Debris!

His dead.

Do not sigh.

Do not breathe.

How the years go by!

Without us noticing...

one day, one awakens and...

What a haze!

Everything is misted over.

It's already day.

What a night!

Happy New Year!

It's still not clean!

My hands are already swollen and I can't scrub any harder.

How long is it since these clothes were washed?

In my country, even a beggar takes better care!

Even the house looks like a beggar's!

Take that off. I'll wash it.

No.

I can't believe how much you've changed!

Everything changes.

If I'd known I wouldn't have come so far.

Here, have some chocolate.

Here!

Here!

You're such a mess!

The guitar string is broken

But our love will not end!

That song!

It's as if it were yesterday.

More than 20 years have passed.

So...

We must speak of our children.

No.

The eldest is in Shanghai, he is studying with a Danish master.

Danish?

Yes.

He's studying architecture.

Arc... i... what?

He's learning to build houses.

Building houses.

Architecture? Yes, now I remember!

And the youngest is already in business.

He's going to marry a young girl

from a good family.

Really?

Both of them want you to go home.

Home...

For appearance sake!

The head of a family on foreign soil, like a beggar!

I'm not a beggar!

Don't you understand?

No, I don't.

But you do.

Is that a wasp nest?

They never sting me.

I didn't think you were so strong.

You never did so much back home!

My home is here.

When I die, I'll stay here forever,

with Ko-Haru and Ó-Yoné.

One home with a wasp nest,

the other covered with moss.

I'm just afraid their families won't want that.

Why wouldn't they?

In Tokushima they don't like foreigners.

- Not even you? - Not even me.

Yet despite that, you still want to stay here?

You don't understand.

The people here have found ways to live with the dead.

CANTO VIII THE GOD OF THE RIVER

With you...

With you...

With you

I've sailed down many rivers

A typhoon arrived

And raised the waters

And the waters

We have faced

In the vessel

We sailed

In the wind

With lotus leaves

Two dragons

Pulled us along

Two griffons gave us wings

I scale the mountain

I look around me

My heart

Confused and troubled

Seems to beat

For a lover

Night falls

And sorrowful

Here I remain

I throw myself to the ground

Yearning for that lost shore

In his mansion

With fish scales I made

In his room

Rich in dragon scales

In his palace

With porticos of shells

What does he do

The Spirit of the Waters?

CANTO IX THE SPIRIT OF THE MOUNTAIN

All is darkness and shadow.

What a fatal day!

The wind from the East whistles as in a typhoon,

making the rain come like magic.

The year is drawing to an end.

And me, who will help me flourish?

"Abandoning all honour,"

"he has come, like any ordinary Portuguese,"

"at the age of 70, to live in a hovel in the country of his beloved,"

"Tokushima."

"There, sad and lonely, he spent his final years..."

"Mr Wenceslau de Moraes,"

"30th June, at 8pm,"

"having drunk brandy,"

"his favourite drink..."

Favourite! What nonsense!

"... a large quantity of brandy..."

"... then, because he was thirsty."

"...thirsty!" What nonsense!

What nonsense!

"And so, wanting some water,"

"he went shakily to the kitchen..."

Chiyoko!

You've come at just the right time!

Read this to me.

I'll give you a present.

Do you want a kimono?

Or some money?

"Unsteady..."

Unsteady...

An unsteady body...

"Shakily..."

Shakily...

"... he stumbled and fell to the ground..."

"and fractured his nose, which..."

I can't read that.

"Unable to get up..."

After that, I can't understand a thing!

What is that?

"Anguish".

"In agony,"

"with a fractured skull..."

"... he died under a foreign sky.

"He died under a foreign sky."

"He died..."

"... under a foreign sky?"

The things they thought!

Chiyoko.

Read that again.

"Having left a will,"

"the likelihood of suicide is dismissed for the moment..."

Suicide?

"... but in a state of depression,"

"he may not have checked his fall."

"After consuming two bottles of alcohol,"

"imported,"

"it's natural that he fell"

"head first,"

"fracturing his nose."

Suicide?

It's quite incredible all the same.

"Might it not be a case of murder?"

Murder?

"Is the pocket torch..."

Murder?

"... that the victim dropped at the entrance..."

"... not a clue in the case?"

"Since the causes of this death"

"are not yet duly clarified,"

"murder is a fairly logical possibility."

"Motive..."

"... money..." - Money?

"... or the inheritance".

"According to general belief,"

"Mr Moraes died in an accident."

"Confusing the house in Tokushima"

"with that in Kobe,"

"Mr Moraes, having drunk a lot,"

"forgot about the stairs,"

"and so tumbled to the ground."

"That seems very clear."

No one knows what happened.

Chiyoko...

Thank you.

I died in numerous ways.

Chiyoko...

You look like your aunt Ó-Yoné.

Chiyoko...

Do you want to marry me?

"Velvet-smooth like fruit,"

he says, in a book.

"Whiter than everything that's white in this world!"

"To kiss it..."

"What sacrilege!"

"At rest, it's a delight!"

Well, well, little lad.

Shameless!

Shameless!

The Portuguese woman's hand! The foot of the Japanese woman!

What servitude, dear Lord!

"The most beautiful exotic flower blooming in greenhouses!"

Just think!

Just think!

How this upsets me!

Poisonous flowers!

What suffocation!

And us here adrift in the vague news we get from the papers.

It's not knowing

that makes his disappearance all the more unbearable.

What must it have been like?

How long was he like that?

I can't get those awful images out of my mind!

What horror!

It seems that no one could get in.

He fell.

It's all so strange!

Yes, it's all so strange.

So strange to have left and never returned!

Why? For what reason?

He was a prisoner there.

You know very well he was imprisoned...

by love...

You have the nerve to say that!

Do you feel no remorse?

And you're so bitter you don't even hide it. Have you no shame?

Hyenas!

Now they fight over his corpse!

There's not a man who wouldn't flee far away!

If I could!

If only I could!

Her care!

Her constant concern for her brother!

She always wanted him under her skirts!

How gross!

What a sick affection!

That daily correspondence all these years.

So many years!

Not even his best friend! Nor even his most devoted mistress!

His mistress!

His mistress!

His most perverse and... lewd mistress!

So that's what scared you, brother, made you run away!

Incorrigible Bohemian!

That's how he saw himself.

As an idea,

as a job,

as a factor in social activity,

I am this: a zero.

That was precisely what society forced him to feel.

A zero!

Poets,

painters,

sensitive people, creative people!

The further away they are the better!

Stay where you are, old boy, stay there!

Zeros!

All shit, of course!

How jealous I am of those two women!

And this sister, what a shadow she casts on me!

If the family didn't weep for its dead...

It's like the nation!

It kills them so it can mourn them!

- Land of weepers! - Respect our tears!

He's a selfish invalid!

They think of nothing but themselves and their art!

May they die alone!

Stupid women!

Hypocrites!

It stinks!

We'll never get him undressed. Get the kitchen knife.

Turn him on his side.

Isn't this the old fellow always wandering in the cemeteries?

That's him! It's his turn now to stay in the cemetery.

Careful... don't skewer him.

Souls on fire!

All the scattered light that illuminates souls...

... madly.

Goddess!

Slave!

Muse!

Martyr!

Heaven and Hell!

What a fatal day!

Do you love me?

Do my ways please you?

Speak alone! Laugh alone!

Curse alone!

Trifles.

And me...

Futilities.

Who will help me flourish?

All is reduced to memories!

To the beat of the drums,

our rites have come to an end.

Dancing, they passed flowers from hand to hand.

Lovely ladies sang the sweetest songs.

In springtime, orchids.

Chrysanthemums, in autumn.

May it be like this forever and ever.

THE END