All language subtitles for Faust -1960

You two, who often besteaded me
in plight and misery,

tell me what you're hoping for
in our undertaking in the German lands.

I'd prefer to please the crowd,
for they live and let live.

The posts are up, the boards are pitched,
and everyone expects a festival.

How do you manage to keep it fresh
and new and - significantly - satisfying?"

Obviously, I like seeing the masses
crowding at our booth.

In daytime, before 16 o'clock,
pushing and pulling towards the register,

and, as if they're starving
in front of a bakery,

almost break their necks
for a single beignet.

This miracle, enchanting so many people,
only a poet can do it.

My friend,
please do it today.

Oh, don't bring up the colorful masses,
whose sight alone makes our minds escape.

No, guide me to a silent, peaceful place,
where only the poets pure joy can blossom.

Ah, it surfaces from deep within our chest,
something our lips can just coyly babble,

failing here, succeeding there,
it engulfs the force of a frantic moment.

All too often, it has to percolate through
many years until it emerges completely.

The gloss is born for a moment in time.
The genuine is preserved for posterity.

I don't want to hear about posterity,
imagine if I were to talk about such!

Who caters fun to the contemporaries?

That’s what they want,
and they shall have it!

So just be well-behaved and
present yourself exemplary.

Let imagination, with all its chores
reason, sense, sensation, passion

but keep in mind
- not without folly - be heard!

But most importantly, show enough action.
One comes to watch and prefers to see.

The masses can only be forced by mass.
Everyone chooses his own pick anyway.

Who delivers a lot,
will bring a bit to a lot of people,

and everyone leaves satisfied.

When you stage a play, stage it in pieces.
Such a ragout is bound to succeed!

It's as easily served as it is written.

What's the point in making a whole thing?
The audience will tear it to shreds anyway.

You don't realize how bad
such a craft would be,

how bad it'd beseem an artist.

I notice that the bungling of fine
gentleman is your maxim already!

An accusation like that leaves me cold.

Aman who wants to accomplish something,
needs to stick with the best tool.

Keep in mind,
you've got soft timber to cut.

Just take a look at who you're writing for:
When this one's driven by boredom,

he shows up,
already full from an excessive meal.

And - what's even worse -

any a visitor comes
after reading a magazine.

They flock absent-minded towards us,
like they would to a carnival,

and only curiosity spurs their feet.

The ladies present themselves in their best

and star in our play without artist fee.

I say, just give them more and more,
and you'll never stray from your goal.

Just try to confuse the audience.
To satisfy them is hard.

Go look for some other servant.

A poet would
outrageously forfeit his right,

his human right given by nature,
just for your sake!

How does he move every heart?
How does he triumph over every element?

Isn't it the accord from within his chest,
which reverberates the entire world?

Who is braiding meaningless leaves
into a crown for accomplishments?

Who safeguards Olympia, unifies the gods?

The strength of mankind,
manifested in the poet.

Well, then use your fine strength,
and push your poetic dealings,

like you would push an amorous adventure!

One meets up by chance,
sympathizes, stays.

And thread by thread
one gets weaved in.

Happiness grows at first, gets contested,
one's delighted, then one's in pain,

and before you know it,
it's a romance novel.

Let us do a play like this as well,
reach into it, into pure human life,

everyone lives it, not many know,

and wherever you grip it,
it’s getting interesting.

In colorful pictures, little clarity,
much fallacy and a grain of truth,

that's how the best potion is brewed,
revitalizing and building everyone up.

Enough words have been exchanged,
just let me finally see some action'

While you're turning compliments,
something useful could be made.

What’s the point talking about mood?
The indecisive never get it.

You want to call yourself poet,
so, command the poetry.

You know, on German stages,
everyone tries whatever they like.

Thus, don't be stingy with the brochures,
and don't go easy on the machines,

make use of the big and small skylight!

You may waste the stars!
There is no lack of water, fire, cliffs,

no lack of animals or birds.

So, stride along this narrow board shack,
down the entire circle of creation,

and stroll, in thoughtful silence,

from heaven through this world,

to hell.

The sun is singing in old custom,
in contest with its brotherly spheres,

and completes its thetic journey
with thunderous walk.

Its sight gives the angels strength,
as no one dares to fathom it,

the incomprehensibly grand opus,
as glorious as on the first day.

And fast - inconceivably fast -
spins the earths magnificence,

switching the light of paradise
with deep, chilling night.

Oceans foaming with broad arms,
at the deep base of rock,

and rock and ocean are torn away,
throughout the hasty run of spheres.

And tempests boom in competition,
from sea to land, from land to sea,

furiously casting a chain of
strongest force all around.

Over there ignites a flaming calamity,
along the path of thunderbolts,

but your messengers, lord,
worship the soft change of your days.

Its sight gives the angels strength,
as no one dares to fathom you.

Your incomprehensibly grand opus,
as glorious as on the first day.

Since you, oh lord, descend once again,
to look after our wellbeing,

and since you are usually pleased to see me,

you see me amongst your servants
as well today.

Forgive me, I cannot speak such high words,
even if the whole assembly mocks me.

My pathos would probably make you laugh,
if you didn't break yourself from laughing.

I have nothing to say
about the sun or earth,

All I see are distressed humans.

The little god on earth
always stays the same,

and is as whimsical as on his first day.

He'd live a little better

if you wouldn’t have given him
the glint of heavens light,

he calls it 'reason'

and uses it only to be more animal
than any animal.

Don't you have anything else to say?
Do you only appear to accuse all the time?

Is nothing on earth to your liking,
forever?

No, lord, I find it - as always -
wholeheartedly bad!

The humans bore me in their misery,
not even I want to devil them.

Do you know Faust?

The doctor?

My servant.

Forsooth, he serves you
in most peculiar ways.

Unearthly are this fool’s food and drink

It's the fermentation which he is after.
He's almost aware of his own madness.

He demands the most beautiful stars above,
and the highest delight below,

yet all closeness, and all distance,
cannot satisfy his deeply moved heart.

Even if his service is obscure for now,
I shall lead him into clarity soon.

For the gardener knows,
in the verdancy of his trees,

bloom and fruit will appear
in the coming years.

What do you wager?

I bet you'll lose this one,

if I get permission to lead him
into my affairs.

As long as he lives on earth,
you're not prohibited to try.

Humans err as long as they strive.

I thank you,
for I loath to deal with the dead.

My favorites are full, rosy cheeks!

I'm not interested in corpses,
much like the cat and its mice.

Very well, I leave it to you.
Misguide this soul from its source,

And guide it - if you can grasp it -
along with you on your way down.

And be ashamed when you have to admit,
a good man, in his dark desires,

is fully aware of the righteous path.

Fine! Although this will not take long

for I am not worried about my bet at all!

If I succeed in my task,

will you grant me triumph,
fully-throated?

He shall eat dust, and gladly so,
just like my auntie, the famous snake.

You may act freely on that as well.

I never hated your kind.

Of all the negating spirits,
the joker is the lightest burden to me.

Humans tire easily under their tasks,

soon they wish for their absolute rest.

Therefore, I accompany them gladly
with a spirit that teases,

affects, and has to work as a devil.

But you, true sons of God,
enjoy this beauty, full of life.

This nascent infinity,
forever striving and weaving,

grab hold of it with your love.

And what is erratic in appearance

fortify with steady thoughts.

From time to time, I
like to see the old man,

and take care not to split in anger.

It's pretty nice of such an exalted lord

to talk so humane even with the devil.

I've studied philosophy,
jurisprudence, medicine

and - regrettably - theology as well,
with active endeavor.

Here I am, poor fool,
just as smart as I was before.

Made my doctor, made my master’s degree
and led my own student’s crisscross

and up the garden path
for almost ten years now.

And realize that we cannot know anything.

It almost makes my heart burn up.

I may be brighter than the other dandies
doctors, masters, writers and clerics,

I may not suffer from scruple nor doubt,
may not fear any devils nor hell,

but in exchange,
all my joy has been taken from me.

I don't flatter myself to know
anything worthwhile.

Don't flatter myself that I could teach,
to better or convert mankind.

Yet I don't own any land,
money, honor or glory on earth,

not even a dog
would want to live like this.

That is why I succumbed to magic.
To see if, with mental power and speech,

I may still uncover some secrets,

so, I don't have to say,
with sweat on my brow,

all the things that I don't know,

so, I may discover what makes
the world goes round in its very core,

watch the driving force and seeds,
and stop grasping for words.

Alas, may you, shine of the full moon,
watch my pity for the last time.

As I sat here many midnights,
above books and paper,

you, gloomy companion, descended on me.

If I could just walk in your light
on mountaintops, float with the spirits,

weave in your twilight on grassy fields,

relieved from my thirst for knowledge,
cure myself with a bath in your dew.

Escape, up and leave into the vast world!

And this mystical tome from Nostradamus
own feather, is this not enough?

You uncover the path of stars,
and once nature instructs you,

the power of your soul opens up to you.

How does a spirit talk to another?

What delight runs through my eyes
into every of my senses.

I feel young, sacred bliss
flowthrough my veins, burning anew.

Through these fine lines,

I watch the process of nature
laid bare in front of my soul.

What spectacle!
Alas, only a spectacle it is.

Where do I grasp you, endless nature?

How different this symbol here
influences me.

You, spirit of earth, are closer to me.

I feel my strengths heightened already,

feel the heat like of new wine.

I feel the courage to venture out
into the world,

to carry the joy of earth within.

It's getting clouded.
The moon's hiding its light.

Rays of red twitch above my head.

I feel you waft around me, invoked spirit.

Reveal yourself!
I devote my whole heart to you.

You have to.
You have to, even if it costs my life!

You attracted me with great force,

drew on my domain for a long time.

And now?

Alack! I cannot bear you!

You implore to gaze upon me,

to hear my voice, to see my face.

I'm inclined by the powerful
imploration of your soul.

Here I am.

What a pathetic dread
grabs hold of you, superhuman?

Where is the calling of your soul?

Where is the heart,
that created a realm within itself?

Where are you Faust,
whose voice I heard?

Should I yield before
this picture of flames?

It's me, I'm Faust,

I'm your kind!

In the flood of life, in the tempest
of action, I bubble up and down,

weaving back and forth
birth and grave, a never-ending sea.

A shifting weave. A flaming life.

Thus, I work on the swishing loom of time,

and weave the deity’s spirited clothing.

Bustling spirit, ranging around the world,
I feel like I'm close to you!

You're equal to spirits you can comprehend!

Not to me!

Not to you?
To whom, then?!

In Gods own likeness, and not even I...

Oh darn, I recognize that knock.
It is my famulus.

There goes my greatest joy to ruin.

My plethora of insights,
disturbed by that gawkish skulker.

Pardon me, but I heard you declaim in here,
you must have read a Greek tragedy.

I'd like to profit by that art myself,
for it is very effective nowadays.

I often heard it, boastfully:
A comedian could teach a priest.

Right, when a priest becomes a comedian;
I see that happening in this day and age.

Ah, if one is bound
inside his museum like this,

barely gazing on the world on a holiday,
barely through binoculars,

just from afar,

how is one supposed to
lead it with persuasion?

If it does not feel,
you cannot hunt it down.

If it's not piercing from within your soul,

forcing the listeners hearts
with elementary content,

all you do is sit, glue together,
brew a ragout of different taste,

and blow those puny flames
out of small piles of ash.

The lecture itself is an orator’s joy.
I sense it, I am far behind yet.

Look for better yield,
don't be a gaudy fool.

reason and justly sense recites
itself with little artistry.

And if you're serious about something,
is it necessary to chase after words?

Egad! The art needs a while
and short is our lifetime.

I get at times, in my critical aspirations,
anxious in head and heart.

How difficult it is, to achieve the means
to ascend to the sources.

And before one even reaches half the way,
that pilgarlic has to die.

The parchment, is that the sacred well,
that quenches our thirst forever?

You don't attain regalement,
if it doesn't spring from your own soul.

Pardon. It's a great delectation, to immerse
oneself in the spirit of the times.

To retrospect how a wise man once thought,
and how gloriously far we came since then.

Indeed.
As far as the stars

My friend, the times of the past
is a closed book to us.

That which you call the ghost of time
is essentially a ghost of its own,

in which times are reflected.

Excuse me, friend,
it's in the dead of night,

we'll have to suspend for now.

I would've liked to go on and on like this,
scholarly discussing with you.

But tomorrow, on the first easter holiday,
may you allow me a question 01 two.

I conduct my academic studies
with assiduous zeal.

I may know much,
but I want to know everything.

Whose head is not to lose all hope,
sticking to such vapid matters,

digging with greedy hands for treasure,
happy to find worms instead?

Can a human voice like that sound
where the amplitude of spirits encircled me?

Alas, this time I thank you,
the humblest one of all sons of earth,

you dragged me away from the despair,
that was about to degrade all my senses!

Oh, this apparition was so tremendous,
it made me think of myself as a dwarf.

I'm not equal to gods,
I can feel that too well.

A worm is what I'm equal to,
as it churns through dust,

one that, as he feeds and lives from dust,
is buried by the wanderer’s step.

But why is my gaze getting pinned
to this point over there,

is this flask a magnet to the eyes?

Why do I suddenly feel lighter?

as if the moon's shine
blows in nightly forest.

I salute you, single phial,
which I take now with devotion.

In you, I admire
humanity’s sharpness and creation.

You, epitome of all potions of slumber,

you, extract of all deadly, refined sinews.

Bestow this favor on your master.

I see you; my pain is soothed.
I touch you; my aspiration is alleviated.

The tide of mind goes out little by little.

I'm getting pointed to high seas,
a specular flow shines at my feet.

A new day entices me towards new shores/'

A blazing cart draws near on airy wings.

I am prepared to pierce the ether
on new channels,

towards new spheres of pure agitation.
Yes!

Resolutely turning my back
on the earthly sun henceforth.

Impudently tearing the gates wide open,
where everyone prefers to sneak past.

This is the hour of proof by action,

that the dignity of man
does not yield to gods,

by taking this step happily.

Even if the risk is to vanish
into nothingness.

This is a potion
that makes drunk apace.

It fills your husk with a brown tide,

which I prepared,
which I chose.

Be this last drink a toast
with body and soul,

a festive,
high salute to dawn.

♫ Christ is resurrected!
Joy to the mortal, ♫

♫ entwined by corrupting,
creeping, hereditary flaws ♫

What a deep humming.

What light sound forcibly pulls
the glass away from my mouth?

Are these hollow bells announcing
the first ceremony of easter already?

♫ Christ is resurrected!
Blessed Is the loving one ♫

♫ who passed the saddening,
salubrious, cultivating trial.

Why are you mighty, mild notes of heaven
approaching me here at the dust?

Go ring where soft people are.
I hear the message very well,

yet I simply lack the faith.

A miracle is faiths favorite child.
I do not dare to strive towards wherefrom

this fair message resounds.

And yet, being used to this sound
from childhood on,

it calls me back into life.

Heavens lovingly kiss used to fall upon me,
in Sabbats solemn tranquility.

There, chimes full of foreboding
used to sound,

and a prayer was heated enjoyment to me.

An incomprehensibly lovely yearning,

pushed me to wander through
forest and fields,

and alongside a thousand hot tears,
I felt a world to sprout within me.

This song used to herald
the chipper games of youth,

the unbound bliss of celebration in spring.

Memory, with childish feelings,
is holding me back

from the last, grave step.

Chime on, sweet heavenly songs.

I'm tearing up. The earth has got me back.

Streams and creeks are freed from ice
by springs fair, invigorating gaze.

Hopeful joy greens in the valleys.

Old winter, in his weakness, retreats
back up harsh mountaintops.

Thence, he sends showers of powerless,

grainy ice in streaks
along the greening field.

But the sun does not tolerate anything white

cultivation and aspiration
stirs up everywhere

It wants to enliven everything with colors,

yet it's lacking flowers,
so, it uses garnished folk instead.

can hear the village turmoil already,
this is the people’s true heaven.

Big and small cheers happily:
Here I am human, here can I be.

To stroll with you, doctor,
is honorable and profitable.

Although I'd never come here
by myself,

for I'm opposed to everything ruffian.

The fiddling, screaming, bowling
is an abhorrent sound to me.

They bluster as if driven by evil spirits
and call it glee, call it song.

The shepherd for the dance,
had on his gaudy jacket, wreath, and ribbon,

Making a fine show,

Under the linden-tree, already,
Everyone was dancing madly.

Hey! Hey! hurrah! Hurray!

So goes the fiddle-bow

In his haste, in a whirl,
He stumbled against a girl,

With his elbow flailing.

Lively, she turned, and said:
Mind out, you wooden-head!

Hey! Hey!
Hurrah! Hurrah!

Just watch where you're sailing!

Fast around the circle bright,
hey danced to left and right,

Skirts and jackets flying.

They grew red; they grew warm,
They rested, panting, arm on arm

Hey! Hey!
Hurrah! Hurray!

And hip, and elbow, lying.

Don’t be so familiar then!
That’s how many a lying man,

Cheated his wife so!

But he soon tempted her aside,
And from the linden echoed wide:

Hey! Hey!
Hurrah! Hurrah!

So goes the fiddle-bow.

Doctor!
How nice of you not to spurn us today,

and walk among this crowd
as our guest of honor.

Take the finest mug,
which we filled with fresh drink.

I present it to you, and wish aloud,
that he won't only quench your thirst;

The number of drops it contains
may be added to your days.

I take this refreshing drink,
and respond to your toast,

blessings and thanks.

Good health for the reliable man,
so may help as long as he can.

Even the teaching and helping man,
has to stand ducked in front of him above.

What a feeling you, fine man,
must get, being adored by this crowd.

Lucky's the one that can profit from
his skills like that.

The cheering of the crowd
sounds like mockery to me now.

How can you be afflicted by that?
Is it not enough, that a good man

practices his assigned craft,
scrupulously and on time?

Lucky is the one that can hope to
emerge from this sea of fallacy.

What you don't know is what you need,
and what you know, you don't need.

But let's not tarnish this beautiful hour
with lamenting.

Observe the cottages,
glistening in the suns glow at dusk.

It moves and yields.
The day is survived.

There it goes and fosters new life.

Alas, there are no wings lifting me
from the ground to follow it on and on.

A lovely dream.
Whereas it escapes.

No worldly wings will join
the wings of mind that quick.

Yet, everybody is born to get his feelings
aloft and forward, when the lark sings,

lost high above ourselves in blue spheres.

When the eagle soars with spread wings
above cragged, high spruce,

and the crane strives over planes
and lakes towards his habitat.

I often had some freakish hours myself,
yet I've never felt a drive like that.

It's easy to see one’s fill
of forests and fields.

I'll never envy the bird for its feathers.

How differently are we carried
by the joys of mind,

from book to book,
from page to page.

You're aware of only one drive,
may you never get to know the other.

Two souls are living withing my chest.

One wants to separate from the other.
The one clings itself to this world,

earthy and love-stricken,
with clamping organs.

The other raises forcibly from dust,
up to realms of high ancestry.

If there are spirits in the air,
ruling, weaving between this sky and earth,

descend from golden scent,
and lead me away, to new, colorful life!

If only a magical cloak could be mine,
carrying me to foreign lands,

I wouldn't, for the finest of garments,
trade it for the cloak of a king!

Do not summon the well-known swarm,
that, spreading in the atmosphere,

causes thousandfold dangers
for humans from all sides

Anyway, let's go.

The world got hoary,
the air got cooled, mist descends.

Only in the evening,
home gets appreciated.

Why are you standing there all staggered
and look afield,

what could take hold of you like that
in the dusk?

Do you see that black dog
roaming around the crop?

saw him for a while now,
it did not seem important to me.

Speak freely,
what do you make of this animal?

It is a poodle that follows its owner's path
in its own manner.

You realize how it's approaching in slow
circles around us?

If I'm not mistaken,
it draws a trail of fire behind its path!

I see nothing but a black poodle,
your eyes must be deceiving you.

It seems to me, it's drawing sorcerous,

quiet nooses around our feet
for future bond.

I see it jump around uncertain and fearful,

as it sees two strangers
instead of its owner.

The circle gets tight, there it draws near.

You see, a dog, not a spook is here.

Join us. Come here.

It is a poodle, clownish animal.
If you stand still, it waits as well,

you talk to it; it strives up to you.
Let something drop, it will fetch it,

will jump into water after your stick.

You're right,
I don't see even a sign of spook

and everything is training.

A dog, if it is trained well,
will earn the favor even of a wise man.

Yes, it deserves your favor for sure,
a student's felicitous pupil.

I have left field and meadows,
covered by deep seated night,

which awakes, in ominous notion,
a better soul in us.

Wild desires have passed on,
with their vehement deeds.

Human kindness starts to sprout,
God's kindness is sprouting now.

Ah, as soon as the lamp's lit up again
in our cramped cell,

it's getting bright within our chest.
In our heart, that knows itself.

Don't growl, poodle.

We know that people ridicule
what they don't understand,

that they,
in front of all things good and beautiful

yet burdensome to them - grumble,

and want to growl at it, just like a dog.

I've got so much experience
on this matter...

But this deficit can be replaced.
We learn to appreciate the heavenly.

We crave for revelation.

Which burns nowhere as dignified
and fair as in the New Testament.

I'm urged to flip open the primary text,
and with honest intend,

translate the divine original
into my beloved German language.

It reads: In the beginning,
there was the word.

I'm at the end of my rope already.

Who helps me to go on?
I can't regard 'the word' that high,

I have to translate it another way,
if I'm enlighten by the mind

It reads:
'In the beginning, there was the meaning'!

Be mindful of your first line,
so that your quill is not rushed into it.

Is it meaning, that creates and acts?
It should read:

'In the beginning, there was force.'

Even if I write it down, something
tells me that I won't stick with it.

My wit's helping me, I see clearly at once,
and write with confidence:

In the beginning,
there was the act!

If I'm supposed to share this room
with you, poodle,

stop howling and barking.

I can't stand such a distracting companion
around me.

Grudgingly, I revoke my hospitality.
The door is open, you've got free rein.

What is this I see,
can this happen naturally?

It's rising with force,
this is not the form of a dog,

What a wraith did I take home?
He's looking like a hippo soon!

For such half-breed of hell,
Salomon is key works well.

Begone with fire, salamander.
Flow into yourself, undine.

Burn up in meteorites, beautiful sylph!
Bring domestic aid, incubus!

Incubus! Come forth
and bring this to an end!

None of those four inhabits this animal.
Are you, companion, a refugee from hell?

Behold this sign, then!
The one that makes the black cohorts bow!

There it buzzes, with bristly hair!

It fills he entire room,
it wants to diffluence into fog

Do not raise towards the ceiling,
lay down at your master's feet!

You better not meet the threefold,
holy light.

Don't meet with the strongest of my spells.

What's the commotion about?

Can I be of service?

So, this was the poodle's core,
a traveling scholar?

The case makes me laugh.

I salute the learned sir.
You made me break a sweat.

What is your name?

That question seems small to me,
coming from someone who disregards words,

Who distanced from appearance,
looks only for profundity in things.

Usually, one can find out
the nature of your lot

by learning your name.

Where it's obvious when they call you
'god of flies', 'spoiler', 'liar'.

Well, who are you, then?

A fraction of yon force,
that strives for evil,

and always achieves good.

What is the meaning of this riddle?

I'm the spirit who always negates,
and rightfully so.

For everything that is worthy of perishing.
It'd be better, if nothing was at all.

So is everything that you call
sin, destruction

in short - evil, my underlying element.

You call yourself a fraction,
yet you stand as a whole before me.

What a humble truth you speak.

For when man reckons that his small,
foolish world is complete.

I am a fraction... of a fraction,
which used to be everything.

A fraction of darkness,
which gave birth to light.

This proud light,
that's now in contest with mother night,

about the ancient stage, space.

And yet, it can't succeed,
since it aspires so much,

it sticks adherent to all bodies.

The bodies reflect it,
the bodies are embellished by it,

the bodies block it on its path.

Therefore, I hope it won't take long,
until the bodies make it perish.

Now I know your worthy duties.

You can't destroy on a big scale
so, you start small.

Of course, it achieves not much.
The thing that opposes nothingness,

this something,
this inept world,

I undertook so much already,
I don't know how to get the better of it,

with waves, tempests, earthquakes, fire;
in the end, soothed sea and land remains.

And this accursed stuff,
this brood of animals and humans?

I've got no stitch on that at all.
I buried a great deal already!

Yet every time, some new,
fresh blood circulates.

It goes on and on like this,
One could go mad!

Out of air, water, even earth,
a thousand microbes emerge.

Dry, damp, warm, cold...
If I didn't reserve the flame for me,

I would have no apart thing for myself.

So, you raise against curative, ruling power,

your cold, hellish fist,
and clench it in vain.

Look for something else to begin,
you whimsical son of chaos.

Let's bethink ourselves,
we can continue this another day.

This time, may I leave?

Why are you asking me?

I made your acquaintance,
you may visit me as you like.

I'll admit! I am detained from leaving
by a little obstacle.

The drudenfuss on your doorsill.

This pentagram pains you?
Tell me, son of hell, if it can banish you,

how did you get in here at all?
How can a spirit be deceived like that?

Look again, it is not drawn well.

The corner going outwards is,
as you can see, incomplete.

What are the odds.

If I'd want to make you my prisoner,
I'd have succeeded already.

The poodle didn't notice
as he barged inside.

But now the tide has turned,
the devil cannot leave this house.

Why don't you leave through the window?

It is a rule, for devils and ghosts.

Wherever they slipped in,
they have to exit the same way.

We're free to choose the former
and are forced by the latter.

Hell itself has laws? That's a good one.
We could even make a pact

with you fine gents, I'm sure.

Whatever we promise, you may fully enjoy,
it won't get tweaked in any way.

But this is the shortest summary,
we can discuss this further soon.

Now I ask you very nicely,
to release me this time.

Stay a while and read me
a bedtime story first.

Now let me go already, I'll return soon.
Then you can ask as much as you want.

I did not prey on you,
you got caught all by yourself.

If you catch the devil, hold him tight.
For you won't catch him again soon.

If it pleases you,
then I'm willing to keep you company.

On the condition, that I'll pass the time
with my worthy art.

I'd like to see that, do as you please,
as long as your 'art' is pleasing to me.

Your senses will yield in this hour more,

than you yielded in
any number of years before.

What the tender spirits will sing to you,
the colorful pictures will bring to you

is not just empty sorcery.
Your sense of smell will be amused as well,

And then it'll titillate your palate.
And your emotions get delighted.

No preparation is needed,
we have assembled, and begin!

Vanish, you shadowy
Vaults above!

Cheerfully show, the friendliest blue
Of aether, down here.

Would that shadowy
Clouds had gone!

Starlight sparkling, Milder sun,

Shining clear.

He's asleep.

Well done boys, aerial and frail.
You reliably lulled him in.

For this concert, I'm in your debt.

You are not the man to hold the devil yet.

Hocus him with sweetly visions,
plunge him into a sea of delusion.

But to split this doorsills spell,
I'll require a rat’s tooth.

I won't need to evoke for long,

until one's rustling over there
and hears me.

The master of all rats
and mice, of flies, frogs, bugs and lice,

commands you to come out of hiding,
and to gnaw away this doorsill.

As I dab it with some oil,
there you hop forth at once.

Let's get to work. The corner that bound me,
it's at the front, right at the edge!

One more bite! It is done.

Well, Faust, keep on dreaming!
Until we meet again.

Have I been fooled again?
Is this my mindful drive vanishing,

dreaming about the devil,
and a poodle escaping me?

Knocking. Come in,
who wants to pester me now?

It's me.

- Come in.
- You have to say it three times.

Come in, then!

That's more like it.
I hope we'll get along,

for I'm here to chase away your tribulations
as your noble donzel.

I advise you, quick and simple,
to dress alike, so you may,

unbound and free,
experience what life really is.

I'll feel the pain of earthly life
in every garment whatsoever.

I'm too old to play around,
too young to be without desire.

What has the world to offer me?
'Spare', it says, 'you need to spare'.

That's the never-ending song,
ringing in everyone’s ears,

singing hoarsely every hour,
for our entire lifetime.

Thus, existence is burden to me,
I welcome death and detest life.

And yet, death is never a
fully welcome guest.

If only I'd have passed away
along this grand flash of inspiration.

And yet, a certain someone
did not drink up a brown potion that night.

It seems, your zest is espionage.

I am not omniscient,
but I am aware of a lot.

An old, familiar sound pulled me away
from my miserable depression.

The remnants of childish emotion betrayed me
with the promise of happier times.

Thence I curse whatever wraps my soul
with lies and jugglery,

and keeps it in this cave of sorrow
with illusions and flattery.

Curse upon the juicy balm from grapes,

Curse upon every love attachment.

Curse upon hope, curse upon faith,
and - above all else - curse upon patience!

Stop playing around with your grief,
which eats at your life like a vulture!

The worst companionship makes you realize,
that you're a man among men.

But I don't intend to thrust you
into vermin like that.

I'm not of the big ones.

But if you decide to take your steps in life
in unison with me,

I'd be willing to be yours,
right away.

I am your companion.

And if it pleases, then I'm your assistant,
your servant.

And what do you want in exchange?

That deadline is still far away.

Why, no. The devil is an egoist
and doesn't act for heaven's sake,

if it's useful to someone else.

Articulate your condition deary.
A servant like you is dangerous.

I vow to be, here on earth,
bound to you in servitude.

I will not rest nor repose.

And when we meet on the other side,
you shall do the same to me.

I care little for the other side.
Firstly, you'll break this one into pieces.

The other side may form afterwards,
my joy stems from this earth.

And this sun shines upon my suffering.

Once I can part from those,
whatever will be, shall be.

You may venture in that spirit. Join me.

You shall gladly see my arts
in the coming days.

I'll grant you
what no man has ever seen before.

Poor devil, what can you grant?

Was a human in his high endeavor,

ever prepared to grasp a
mind like that of your kind?

Do you have food that never satiates?

Do you have gold that
runs through your fingers like mercury?

A game in which you never win?

Show me a fruit that rots
before you can split it.

Show me trees which revegetate daily.

A request like that won't scare me off,
I can serve with such treasures.

But, dear friend, there may be a time
in which we want to banquet at rest.

If I ever laze about,
it shall be all up with me.

Can you tell me such a lie
that makes me blow my own horn?

Can you deceive me with regalement?

If you can, it shall be
my last day on earth. I'll bet you!

The bet is on!

And with this:

If I say to a moment,
'Stay on, you're too beautiful.',

then you may cast me in bonds,
then I shall gladly perish.

Then the death bell may ring,
you'll be freed from servitude.

The clock may stop and its hands fall of.
My time will be up.

Consider it well.
We will not forget it.

Rightfully so.
I'm not impertinently impudent.

However I persist, I'm a servant.
If yours or whomever, I won't ask.

I will perform my duties soon,
at the doctor’s banquet.

But, one thing:

For better or for worse,
I'd like to ask for some lines.

'You demand a written contract, you pedant?

Have you never known a man and his word?

What do you ask of me, sinister spirit?
Ore, marble, parchment, paper?

Shall I use pen or chisel or quill?
I leave the choice up to you.

How easily you exaggerate
in your heated rhetoric.

For every scrap of paper's fine,
signed, with a drop of blood.

If you're satisfied at last,
It shall be done with this grimace.

Blood is an extraordinary juice.

Don't worry I break our pact.
My deepest strive and all my strength

is exactly what I promise you.

Let's rush into the reeling of time,
into the gathering of occurrence.

Where pain and pleasure,
success and failure, exchange at will.

A man acts restless only.

You don't have any metes and bounds.

Fancy to nibble everywhere,
catch something as you pass by,

it shall be to your health,
whatever makes you happy.

But snap at the chance and don't be dopey.

You heard me,
happiness is not the issue.

I'm consecrate to delirium,
the most painful of all joys,

amorous hate,
refreshing vexation!

My chest, its thirst for knowledge quenched,
shan't keep any more sorrow from now on,

and what is granted to all of mankind is
what I want to savor within myself alone.

Take it from me, who chewed
some thousand years on this though chow:

From the cradle to the grave,
no man can stomach that old sourdough.

Take it from us...

This whole thing is made only for a god.

It's him who finds himself
in eternal brilliance.

He delivered our kind into darkness,
while day and night only suit yours.

What am I,

if it's impossible to grasp
the crown of humankind,

which everyone’s mind is set on?

You are who you are in the end.

Whether you put on a wig
of thousand ringlets,

or put your feet in knee-high socks,
You'll always be who you are, in the end.

I can feel it.

I hoarded mankind's intellectual treasures
in vain,

and when I sit down at the end of the day,
no new inwardly powers spring out.

I've not ascended by an inch.
I'm not closer to eternity.

Good sir, you look at things...
like one looks at things indeed.

We have to be smarter than that,
ere our vitality gets away.

Now think anew, stop contemplating,
and get involved right into the world.

I'm telling you, someone who speculates,
is like cattle on a meager meadow,

led by an evil spirit around in circles,
when everywhere else is greenfield.

- How do we start?
- We simply leave!

What kind of dungeon is this,
what's this kind of life you're living,

annoying yourself and your pupils?
Let your neighbor's paunch be,

Why bother flailing straw?
The best things that you're able to know,

you won't be able to tell the boys, anyway.

I can hear one in the hallway already.

I'm unable to see him right now.

This poor lad waited for long,
shall not leave uncomforted.

Go on, give me your robe and cap.

This masquerade will suit me well.
You just leave it to my wit.

I'll just need a quarter of an hour.

Meanwhile, prepare yourself
for our fair trip.

Go on and spurn all reason and science,
the finest powers of mankind.

Be encouraged by a mesh of lies
through dazzle and magic.

Thus, I own you already,
unconditionally!

I'll drag him through this bustling life,
through shallow triviality.

He shall dither, fixed and sticky,
and his insatiability

will hover meat and drink
in front of hungry lips.

Yet he'll beg for refreshment to no vail.

And even if he won't succumb to the devil,
he'd have to perish anyway.

came to meet and greet the man,

everyone tells me about in awe.

Your courtesy pleases me,
yet you see a man like many others.

Have you inquired elsewhere yet?

Please, take me under your wings!

I come of good cheer,
with plenty of money and fresh blood.

My mother would barely let go of me.
I'd like to learn something proper out here.

You came to the right place.

To be honest, I want to leave already.
I don't fancy those walls and halls at all.

Constricted rooms all around,
You can't see any greens or trees.

And in the lecture hall, on those benches,
my mind and sight gone blank.

It all comes down to habit.

Just as a newborn doesn't accept
its mother's breast at first,

but before long it gets fed with appetite.

And just like that, at wisdoms breasts,

you'll get hungrier every day.

That's a neck I'd gladly cling to!
Just tell me, how do I get there?

Declare, before we continue,
what faculty do you want to choose?

I want to get apprenticed well,
and want to grasp heaven and earth,

science and nature.

Then you're on the right track,

as long as you don't take
your mind off things.

I'm in, with heart and soul.

But still,
I'd fancy some pastime and amusement,

on those lovely summer holidays.

Make use of time, which is gone in a flash.

But organization makes you gain time.
My dear friend, therefore I advise:

Foremost, Collegium Logicum.
There, your mind gets trained well,

strapped into Spanish boots.
So that the mindful man henceforth,

may creep along his trail of thoughts,

and not crisscross,
will-o'-the-wisp like back and forth.

Concerning the factory of thoughts,
it's much like a weaving loom,

where one step moves a thousand threads,
the shuttles dart across and over,

threads flow along unseen,
one stroke makes a thousand connections.

The philosopher comes along
and proves to you:

that is how it has to be,

the first's like this,
the second's like that,

therefore, the third and fourth like so.

And if the first and second isn't,
the third and fourth is not at all.'

The scholars laud this all around.
Yet none of them became weavers.

If one wants to identify
and describe a living thing,

firstly, tries to expel its ghost.

then the components are in his hands.

All that's missing is the spiritual bond.

I get so dizzy from all that,
as if I had a windmill in my head.

Afterwards, before anything else,
you'll have to approach metaphysics,

where you strive to grasp that,
which does not fit into a human head.

For what goes in and what does not,
an apposite word is at your service.

But for this semester now,
take care of upmost tidiness.

A five-hour schedule every day,
be dead on time with the stroke of the clock

Prepare yourself well beforehand,
rehearse well all the paragraphs,

there with you may see that he's not
saying more than what the book says.

But be as diligent in your own thesis,
as if you're getting dictated by the

holy ghost.

You won't have to tell me twice,
for I see much use in that,

what you own in black and white,
you can carry confidently home.

Still, choose a faculty.

Concerning jurisprudence,
am not well-disposed towards that.

I can't really hold it against you.
I know about the state of this doctrine.

Laws and rights inherit each other,
like a perpetual sickness,

they trudge from grandfather to grandson

And move slightly from place to place.
Reason becomes nonsense,

a good deed means trouble.
Woe betide you, for you're a grandson

from the law, that is born with us.

Regrettably, that one's never in demand.

You amplify my disgust in that field,
happy is the one getting lectured by you.

I'm inclined to study theology now!

I don't intend to lead you astray.
Concerning this scholarship,

it is so difficult to avoid the wrong path.
So much hidden poison lies within,

barely distinguishable from medicine.

It's best to listen to only one in here,

and pledge loyalty to the master's words.

Hold on to words.
Then you'll walk through a safe gate,

into the temple of certainty.

But a word has to be accompanied by terms.

Right. Although you mustn't
anxiously torture yourself with that,

for exactly where the things are termless,

an apposite word
presents itself in due time.

You can argue excellently with words.
You can fabricate a system with them.

You can excellently believe in words.
You can't steal even an iota from them.

'Pardon me,
I keep you with a lot of questions

Yet, I have to trouble you some more.

Won't you tell me a hefty thing
about medicine as well?

'Tm tired of this deadpan talk.
Gotta act as a devil some more.

The spirit of medicine is easy to grasp.
You study the world in big and small scales,

to let go off it afterwards as you please.

No use to ponder scientifically
about a subject,

everyone learns only
what one is able to, anyway.

One who understands the presence,
that is the right man.

After all, you've got a fine stature,
and no lack in temerity, it seems.

And if you only trust yourself,
the others will trust you as well.

And importantly, learn to master women.

Is their perpetual oy and vey,
thousandfold curable with one spot.

And once you act
even barely honorable,

you'll have them all
in the palm of your hand.

A title has to make them intimate at first,
proving your art's better than the others,

as a greeting, you grope
around all those many places,

others sneak around for many years,
you learn to take their pulse really well,

and grab their hip with fiery, smart eyes,

to see how tightly strapped she may be.

That's more like it.
So one learns about the where's and how's!

Grey, my dear friend, is all theory!

And green the admired tree of life,

I swear, it's as if I'm dreaming.

May I bother you another time,
to fathom your words of wisdom?

What I can do, shall gladly be done.

I can't possibly leave.

At least, I want to submit register to you.
May your favor grant me this mark.

Very well.

Eritis sicut Deus,
scientes bonum et malum.

Follow the old phrase,
and my auntie, the snake.

You'll surely will scare yourself one day,
how godlike you've become.

So, where to, then?

Wherever you like.
First, we see the small, then the big world.

With joy and profit,
you'll blaze through this seminar.

That attempt will not succeed,
never knew how to get out into the world.

I always feel so small in front of others,
always will be sheepish.

My dear friend,
everything will turn out alright.

As soon as you trust yourself,
you'll know how to live.

But how do we get out of here,
you've got a groom and cart?

We simply spread this cloak,
it will carry us through the air.

A bit of fiery air, prepared by me,
will lift us agilely from the ground.

And once we're light, we'll go up quickly.
I congratulate you to your new way of life.

No one drinks, no one laughs?
I'll teach you pulling faces that long.

Today, you act like wet straw,
and usually, you're ablaze.

That is your own fault, you bring no set-up,
nothing dumb nor dirty.

There you have both.

Twice a pig.

You asked for it, it can't be helped.

Soar up, miss nightingale,

send my love to my sweetheart,
send my love to my sweetheart,

send my love to my sweetheart,
send my love to my sweetheart,

a thousand times!

No love to the sweetheart,
I don't want to hear about it.

The sweetheart gets love and kiss,
you won't stop it!

Unlock the door! in silent night.
Unlock the door! your love is awake!

Lock the door! at early dawn.

Sure, sing on and praise her!
I'll be laughing in due time.

She led me on
and will do the same to you, as well.

I won't hear of any regards,
unless it's breaking her windows!

First of all,
I have to get you in amusing company

So, you can see how easy living life can be.

To this folk, every day is a festival.

They must be travelers,
you can tell by their odd demeanor.

They haven't arrived even an hour ago.

Indeed, my Leipzig's dear to me,
it's a little paris, and educates its people.

What are you looking at them for?

Leave it to me, alongside a drink
I'll steal their secrets like child's candy.

They must be of some noble house,
proud and discontented as they seem.

They're market criers, I'll bet.

Maybe.

Watch me,
I'll screw it out of them.

The common folk couldn't sense the devil,

if he'd got them at the
scruff of their neck.

Greetings, sirs.

Thanks for returning the greeting.

Is it allowed for us to join you?

Instead of a good drink
which one cannot have

the company shall please us instead.

You seem to be a petted man.

If I'm not mistaken,
we heard skilled voices join in a chorus.

Surely a song must resound
admirably from this arch.

Are you, by chance, a virtuoso?

Sadly, no. The body is weak,
solely my desire is strong.

Play us a song

If it pleases the crowd.

But make it a brand new one!

We just returned from Spain,
the beautiful country of wine and song.

There once was a king,
who had a giant flea.

What, a flea, did you hear that?
A flea, what a fine guest that is.

There once was a king,
who had a giant flea.

Whom he loved very much,
loved him like a son.

He summoned his tailor,
the tailor came forth, and,

measured up the flea
for suit and pantaloons.

All in silk and velvet,
he was wrapped in now,

With ribbons around his coat
and also, a cross on it.

And soon, he was minister,
and wore a big star.

Then his brothers and his sisters,
became grand at court as well.

Then his brothers and his sisters,
became grand at court as well.

Lords and ladies in court,
got very plagued, indeed.

The queen and her maid,
got bitten and gnawed on.

And yet, they could not falter,
could not scratch them away.

We falter and we suffocate
if one of them bites us!

We falter and we suffocate
if one of them bites us!

'Bravo! Bravo, that was great!

That should be the lot of every flea!

Pinch your fingers and grab them well!

Long live freedom, long live wine!

I'd raise my glass to honor freedom as well,
if your wines would be a little better.

We won't like to hear that again!

I fear the innkeeper might complain,
else I'd give you, fine guests,

some of the best out of our own wine cellar.

Just bring it here, I'll take the blame.

If you deliver a good wine,
we'll praise you,

but don't give too small samples,

for when I'm supposed to sing,
I demand a big mouthful.

Then tell me, what would you like to taste?

What do you mean, do you have a wide choice?

You're free to request whatever!

Aha, you're licking your lips already!

Alright. If I have free choice,
I'll have some Rhine wine.

The fatherland delivers the very best goods.

Get some wax to level the corks.

Aha, it's a conjurors trick.

What about you?

I want champagne,
with fancy mousse in it.

One can't always shun the foreign,
good things often lay afar.

A real German can't stand a Frenchman,
but he likes to drink his wine!

I'll admit I don't like the sour wines.
Get me a glass of a real sweet one.

At once, Tokajer shall flow for you.

Good sir, look me in the eyes,
I know you're just hoaxing us.

Ah, with esteemed guests like you,
that would be too bold of me.

Just tell me freely now,
what kind of wine may I serve?

Anything's fine, no need to ask.

The vine wears grapes, the buck wears horns,

Wine is juicy, yet wooden are vines.

A wooden table, can provide wine as well.

A profound gaze into nature.
Here's a miracle, just believe.

Now pull the corks out and enjoy.

What a fountain is serving us!

Just watch out not to spill anything.

We feel just so bloody good,
like five-hundred sows would

♫ We feel just so bloody good,
like five-hundred sows would ♫

♫ Sows, sows, sows, sows... ♫

Townsfolk is free,
just look how well they're doing.

I'd like to leave now.

Just watch, a magnificent beastliness
will reveal itself shortly.

Fire! Get help!
All hell's breaking loose.

Calm down, friendly element.

It was only a drop of hellfire, for now.

What's this about?!
Wait! You'll pay dearly for that!

Looks like you don't know who we are!

Shush, did wine barrel.

Hogwash! You want to be rude now?

Just you wait!
It'll rain some fists!

I'm burning, I'm burning!

Sorcery!
Stab him, this lad is mad.

Falsely formed words
change places and meaning.

Be here and there.

Where am I?
What a beautiful country!

Vineyards! Are my eyes deceived?

And grapes right there.

Lo! Beneath the leaves,
what a vine, what a grape!

Fallacy, let go of those eyes.

Now remember how the devil likes to jest.

- What's going on?
- What's this?

- Was that your nose?
- and I'm holding yours right now.

I was convinced that I drank wine.

was an illusion, lies and deception.

But what about those grapes?

I'll be jiggered.
Talk about a miracle.

I disdain those magical creatures.

You're telling me, I'm supposed to
recover amidst this padded mania

Like I need advice from an old hag!

And will that witches brewing
detract thirty years of age from me?

What a sweet species!
This one's the maid, that one's the menial.

It seems to me, madame is not at home?

- At lunch!
- Out of the office!

Left through the chimney!

How long does she intend to flutter around?

As long as we may bask our paws!

What do you think about these tender pets?

More tasteless than I've ever seen.

No way! A discourse like this
is exactly what I prefer.

This is the world.
'It goes up and down.'

It rolls around constantly.

It sounds like glass!
- How soon might it break?

It's hollow inside.

- Glistening well over here!
- And even more over here!'

- I'm alive.
- Keep your distance, son.

You have to die!
- It's made of clay, there'll be shards.

What's this vision? This enchanted mirror
reflects a most heavenly sight.

Love, lend me your fastest wings,
and lead me into her realm!

Is it possible?
Can this woman be so beautiful?

Something like that is found on earth?

Certainly!
If God himself works six days straight,

and sees that it's good afterwards,
it has to be something formidable.

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Cursed animal, damned one!
You forgot the cauldron,

you scorched the lady! Accursed animal, you!

What's all this? Who are you?
What do you want, who sneaked inside?

Searing pain be in your bones!

You got so little respect
for the red doublet?

Don't you recognize the roosters feather?

Have I cloaked my look somehow?
Do I really need to introduce myself?

1 must be out of my mind!

1 behold squire Satan, returning.

Don't you mention that name, woman.

Why? What has it done to you?

It's been written in fairy tales for ages.
Yet, humans don't have it any better now.

They got rid of that evil,
but evils have stayed.

You shall call me baron,
and we'll leave it at that.

I'm a chevalier like other chevaliers!

That is just like you!
You're a rascal as always.

My friend, you have to understand,
this is the way to treat witches.

Now tell me, sirs, why are you here?

For a good glass of that well-known juice.

I'll have to request for the oldest one,
bygone years double its power.

Very well! There is a bottle
which I choose to sip from myself.

It doesn't even stink at all anymore.
I'd love to offer you this drink,

If this sir drinks it unprepared,
he won't even survive an hour, you know.

He is a good friend
who I'm well-meaning towards,

I treat him gladly with your kitchens best.

So, draw your circles, chant your spells,

- And fill him a cup!
- Yes!

Tell me, what's all this then?
This crazy stuff, this mad behavior,

it's the most ordinary deception,
I've come to know and hate it well.

Some antics,
we're having laugh.

Don't be such a serious man.'

It's her doctoral duty
to make some hocus-pocus,

so, the potion affects you well.

You have to understand:
One becomes ten,

Let go of two, make three equals,
and you'll be rich.

Loose four. From five and six,
told by a witch, make seven and eight,

And it's done.
And nine is one, and ten is nothing.

That's the timetable of a witch!

Methinks, this hag's down with fever.

That won't be over soon.

Usually, if a man hears words,
he thinks there's something to think about.

The high art of science,
cryptic to the whole world!

He who thinks not, gets it for free.

he owns it without worry!

Down the drink, don't hesitate.
It will please your heart at once.

You want to deal with the devil,
and shy away from the flame?

Let's get out quick, you mustn't rest!

May that sip be to your health!

And if I can return your favor,
you may tell me only at Walpurgis.

Just let me take a peek at the mirror,
that woman's sight was too beautiful!

No no! You shall gaze upon the
archetype of women in real life soon.

You see, with this potion in your body,
you'll find a Helen in every woman.

My fair maiden, may I be so bold,
to offer you my arm and escort?

I'm neither a maiden, nor fair,
I can go home by myself.

By the heavens, this girl is pretty.
I never saw anything like her.

She's so rich of manners and virtue,
and a bit snappish at the same time.

Her lips are red, her cheeks are bright,
I'll never forget it in all days on earth.

The way she looked down in front of me,
impressed itself onto my heart.

Her short-spoken manner, what a delight.

'Listen, I need you to get me that damsel.

- Which one, then?
- The one that just walked along here.

That one? She just came from the priest,
who sanctified her from all sins.

I sneaked past the confessional,
she's completely innocent,

'Who had to confess nothing at all.

I've got no power over her.

But she's over fourteen!

You talk like a real cockish one,
one that demands every fair flower,

and thinks, there's no honor
or grace that he couldn't pluck.

still, it's not possible every time.

Alright, mister chastity,
leave your laws out of this.

To put it simple: If this sweet exemplar
doesn't lie in my aims tonight,

then we are done with one another.

Bethink what's possible and what is not.

I'll need fourteen days at least,
just to spy out an opportunity.

If I had seven hours of time,
I wouldn't need the devil to seduce her.

You're almost talking like a Frenchman.
Kindly don't get chagrined now.

What's so good about enjoying right away?
That is way less pleasurable than,

the pleasure after going up and forth,
through a manifold fuss,

kneading and shaping that little doll,
like so many Welsh tales teach us.

I've got appetite without any of that.

Now in all seriousness, I tell you,
there's no quick way to get this girl.

Nothing to capture in a rush here,
we'll have to resort to a ploy.

Bring me a piece of this angels' treasures,
guide me to her resting place!

Get me a muffler from her neck,
a garter, token of my lovesickness.

As a sign of my devotion to your pain,
we shall waste no time,

'TH guide you into her chamber today.

And I shall see her, have her?
- Nooo.

She'll be at her neighbor's house,
meanwhile you can, on your own,

in hopes of all the coming pleasures,
revel in her atmosphere.

- Can we go now?!
- It's too early.

Get me a gift for her.

A gift, right away? That's proper.
He'll succeed with that.

I know plenty nice places,
and plenty of old, buried treasures.

I'll have to revise for a little bit.

What I wouldn't give away,
to find out who that gentleman was.

Sure, he looked pretty valiant,
and he comes from a noble house,

I could read that from his brow

He wouldn't have been so bold otherwise.

Come in. Quietly, come in.

Please, leave me alone now.

Not every girl is as tidy as this.

Welcome, sweet, crepuscular light,
as you soak this sanctuary.

Take hold of my heart, lovers' grief,
who lives languish in the dew of hope.

Breathing feelings all around,
of silence, order and contentment.

In this penury, what a galore.
In this prison, what a bliss.

And here, what pleasant shudder befalls me!
Here I want to spend whole hours.

Nature, here you cultivate an angel,
with easy dreams, deep inside.

Here she lied, her tender heart
filled with youthful life.

Here, in holy, pure weaving,
a godly image came to be.

And you? What has led you here?
How deeply am I moved.

What are you doing in here?
Why is your heart getting heavy?

Pathetic Faust, I don't know you anymore.

Is there a magic scent in here,
that urges me to relish so openly,

and nudges me to flow along a dream of love?

Are we just playthings for every atmosphere?

And if she'd step in right now,
how dearly would you pay for your crime?

You big man would lie swooning at her feet.

Quickly, I hear her downstairs!
- Out, let's go, I'll never return.

Here's a casket, pretty heavy,
I took it from somewhere else.

Put it in her cupboard and, swear,
she'll faint at the sight.

I've put some trinkets into it,
so, you may win over this one.

Yet, child is child, and play is play.

I don't know, should I?
- You dare to ask?

You'd rather keep this for yourself?
In that case, I'd advise your lustfulness,

to spare the sweet light of daytime,
and spare me any further trouble.

I hope you're not greedy.

I scratch my head, rub my hands...

Let's go now, to bend this sweet,
young girl to your heart and will! Let's go!

It is so musty, so sultry in here.
Yet it's not even warm outside.

I'm getting so...
I don't know what.

I wish mother would come home.

♫ There was a king in Thule, ♫

♫ He was faithful to the grave, ♫

♫ To whom his dying lady, ♫

♫ A golden goblet gave. ♫

♫ When he himself was dying, ♫

♫ No towns did he with-hold, ♫

♫ No wealth his heir denying, ♫

♫ except the cup of gold. ♫

♫ He gave a royal banquet, ♫

♫ is knights around him, all, ♫

♫ In his sea-girt turret, ♫

♫ in his ancestral hall. ♫

♫ There the old king stood, yet ♫

♫ drinking life's last glow, ♫

♫ then threw the golden goblet, ♫

♫ into the waves below. ♫

♫ He saw it falling, drowning, ♫

♫ sinking in the sea, ♫

♫ Then, his eyelids closing, ♫

♫ never again drank he. ♫

How did this pretty box get in there?
I'm sure I locked the cupboard earlier.

How curious.
I wonder what's inside?

Maybe someone brought it as deposit
to take a loan from my mother.

There is a little key attached.
I think I'll open it.

What's this?

Heavens above! Lo!

I've never seen anything
like this my whole life!

Jewelry!

A noblewoman could wear this
on the highest holiday.

How would the necklace look on me, I wonder?

Just who does this magnificence belong to?

One looks so much different at once.

What good does the beauty of youth
do, anyway?

It might be all well and good, but

at the end of the day,
it amounts to nothing.

You get praised,
but with some pity.

It's all about gold,
gold's everyone's impulse.

Alas! We poor, poor people.

By scorned love!
By the infernal element!

I wish I'd know something worse
I could curse about!

What are you so angry about?
I've never seen a face like yours!

It makes me want to succumb to the devil,
if I weren't a devil myself!

Did you get touched in the head?
It suits you to bluster like a madman.

Just imagine! The jewelry for Gretchen,
a priest snatched it away!

Her mother discovered the box,
already gnashing her teeth secretly.

That woman has a refined sense of smell,
snooping around in her prayer book.

So, she can smell at every item,
if its holy or if it's profane!

Her mother calls for a priest,
who smelled a rat hearing this,

allows himself to gaze at that sight!

He said:
'Now that's how you are honest in mind!'

The one that overcomes, wins.

The church has got a big stomach,
has gobbled up entire countries,

And yet, has never gotten full.

The church alone, my good ladies,
can stomach unjust things!

That's a fairly common custom,
a Jew and King can do that, too.

Then he pocketed brooch, necklace, rings,
as if they were chanterelles!

And is not less or more thankful,
than if he'd got a basket of nuts!

And he promised them both God's blessing,
and they were very elated by that.

What about Gretchen?
- She's sitting there all fidgety,

doesn't know what she's
supposed to want or do,

thinks about the jewels around the clock,
and about who could've brought it in.

I'm sorry about the damsel's grief.

Go procure another attire for her,
the first one didn't suffice anyway.

Right, to you it's all child's play.

Just do it, follow my will,
and follow her neighbor as well.

Don't be such a wuss, devil,
and bring more jewelry in!

Yes, my good lord!
Gladly, my lord!

Such an enamored fool
wastes sun, moon and every star,

for entertainments sake on his beloved.

May god have mercy on my husband,
for he didn't do me any good.

Just walks out into the wide world,
and leaves me behind at home.

For I would never betray him,
God knows I would love him wholeheartedly.

Maybe he's even dead already.

Oh dear!
If only I had a death certificate...

Miss Marthe!

Gretchen?
What is it?

I almost fainted,

as I found another one of these boxes,
in my cupboard!

It's of ebony, and full of riches,
even more than the first!

You needn't tell your mother,
she would just carry it to the priest again.

Behold this, just look at it!

Oh, you lucky creature.

Sadly, I can't be seen with this
on the alleys or at church.

You just visit me often,
to put that jewelry on in secret.

You can stroll around in front of the mirror
we'll have our fun with it.

And once there's an occasion, a festival,
one can show off little by little.

First the necklace,
then pearls in your ears...

Your dear mother won't notice it,
she's getting deceived as well, after all.

Who brought these two boxes?
Something is not right here.

Oh dear, could this be my mother?'

It's a stranger.

Come in!

May I be so bold to come in,
I'll have to beg your ladies’ pardon.

I wish inquire about
Miss Marthe Schwerdlein.

That's me.
What news do you bring, sir?

I made your acquaintance,
that's enough for now.

I see, the lady has a noble visitor.
Excuse the liberty I took before,

I shall return in the afternoon.

Imagine, girl! Heavens above,
this sir thinks you're a mademoiselle!

I'm just a poor, young girl.
Oh dear, this sir is just too kind.

This whole attire is not mine.

Oh, it isn't just the attire

You've got the character and a sharp gaze.

I'm so glad that I'm allowed to stay.

What do you have for me, then?
Pray tell!

I wish, I had a happier tale,
and hope the lady won't scold me:

Your husband's dead and sends his regards.

He's dead?
This loyal heart?

Alack! Oh dear, my husband's dead!
Oh, I'll faint!

Oh, dear miss,
please don't despair!

So, listen to my tragic story!

That's why I'll never fall in love,
the loss would break my heart.

There has to be sorrow in joy,
and joy in sorrow.

Tell me how his life ended.

He's buried in Panua,
with saint Antonius,

a quite holy, sacred site,
a resting place, forever cold.

Have you got anything else to bring me?

Yes, a request,
big and heavy

Please let the community sing
at three hundred masses for him.

concerning everything else,
my pockets are empty.

Not a single trinket, no jewelry?
Something every craftsman hides

at the bottom his pocket as a keepsake,
and rather starves, rather begs?

I'm so sorry, madame.

Although he didn't waste his money,
he regretted his mistakes,

and lamented his mistakes even more.

Oh dear,
for mankind to be so distraught like that...

I'll surely pray many a requiem for him.

You'd be worthy to get married right away.
You're a lovely girl.

Oh no, that won't happen just yet.

If not as husband,
maybe as a lover in the meantime?

It's one of heavens highest blessings,
to hold a fair maiden in one's arms.

That's not a custom in our country.
'Custom or not, that'll calm down, too.

Please tell me more.

I stood at his death bed,

which was much better than
just muck and septic straw.

Yet he died as a Christian,
and pondered about his outstanding debts.

"How much I hate myself", he cried,
"to leave my craft and wife like that!"

"Oh, the memory alone is killing me!
I hope she'll forgive me in light of that."

Oh, this good man!
I forgave him already!

"God alone knows,
she's more to blame than me."

He lied!
My god, he dared to lie on his deathbed?

He must have spoken in tongues
before breathing his last, I dare wager.

He said:
"As we left the coast of Malta,

I prayed for my wife
and children fervently,

and then the heavens were in my favor,
so, we caught a Turkish ship,

which was carrying a treasure
of the high sultan.

Which became our bravery's reward,
and I received my rightful share."

Oh how, oh where?
Did he bury it perhaps?

Who knows, to where
the four winds have carried it now?

A pretty lady took care of him,
as he strolled around Naples.

She did many good and lovely things to him,
and he felt them still at his life's end.

That scoundrel,
a thief to his own children!

All that loathing and sorrowful life
couldn't keep him from living in disgrace!

See, in return he's dead now.

If I were in your place,
I'd mourn him for a modest year long,

and then put my sights meanwhile,
on a new treasure.

Oh dear, it won't be easy for me,
to find one like this again.

There never was a more lovable fool,
he just loved to wander too much,

and other women and other wine,
and the accursed dice!

Well, an ordeal like that would work,

if he could equally blame you
for your deeds.

I swear to you: On those conditions,
I'd exchange wedding rings with you myself.

Oh, you sir, must be joking.

Now it's high time for me to leave.

That one would even take the devil
at his word.

What about your heart's feelings?

What do you mean by that, sir?

you good, innocent child.

Farewell, my ladies!

Wait, I'd like to ask for proof,
where and when my love got buried.

I'm akin to organization and would like
to read his obituary in the newspaper.

Alright, my dear miss.
All truth is spoken through two witnesses.

For I've got a fine companion,
whom I could summon under oath.

I will bring him here.

Oh, please do.

And this young maiden will be there, too?

It's an honest lad, who travelled far,
and demonstrates courtesy to all.

I'd have to blush
in front of this gentleman.

You needn't in front of any king on earth.

Behind the house, in my backyard,
is where we shall wait for you two gents.

Did you make progress? Will it succeed?

Ah bravo, I find you in feverish lust!
In a short while, Gretchen will be yours!

She'll be at her neighbor's house
this evening.

That's a lady, like handpicked,
for impostors and vagabonds.

Alright!

- But in return, something's asked of us as well.
- One service is equal to another.

We just have to testify, that her husband's
stretched out limbs are buried in Padua.

Just great.
We'll have to travel there first, then.

Sancta simplicitas! We don't have to.
Just testify, even if you don't know.

If you don't have anything better,
back to the drawing board!

Oh, you saint!
If you were one!

Have you never falsely
testified in your life?

Haven't you thus far voiced
definitions of God, the world,

and what budges in a humans
mind and heart, with zeal?

With a cheeky brow and stretched out chest?'

And look inside yourself,

have you, in all honesty,
actually known about it more,

than you know about the death
of Mr. Schwerdlein?

You are thoroughly a liar, a sophist!

Sure, if one wouldn't know any better.

And tomorrow you won't, with all honor,
vow all your love to poor Gretchen.

Stop it!

When I get this feeling, this turbulence,
and I look for a description and find none,

and wander aimlessly through the world,
grasping for all highest words,

and then I call this glow within me
endless, infinite! Infinite!

Is that just a diabolic fabrication?

And still, I'm right.

Listen to this and remember
- and spare my lungs further -

one who wants to be right and owns
an unforked tongue, will be right for sure.

Let's go, I tire of this tattle.
Because you are right,

luckily for you, for I have to!

I can tell that you go easy on me,
and lower yourself to be in my presence.

A traveler must be used to
make compromises for modesty's sake.

I'm well aware that my meager conversation
cannot amuse an experienced man like you.

One gaze from you, a single word,
amuses more than all wisdom in the world.

Don't incommodate yourself.
How could you kiss it?

It is so nasty, is so rough.
Oh, how much I had to work already.

My mother is just
too accurate in all things.

And you, good sir?
You're just always traveling?

Oh, our duties and dealings drive us to.

One leaves certain places with heavy heart,
and is still not allowed to stay.

It's fitting for the brisk years of life,
to wander around the world freely,

but once the vicious time arrives,
dragging oneself as a confirmed bachelor,

slowly to the grave alone,
there's just nothing good in that.

Shuddering, I watch that from afar.

Therefore, dear sir,
get counseled with times.

Well, out of sight, out of mind.
You're very familiar with courtesy.

You must have a lot of friends,
who are more knowledgeable than me.

Oh, how modesty and innocence
never realizes its own value,

that humility and lowliness
are the highest gifts of nature.

Think about me just for a moment,

for I'll have enough time
to think about you.

So, you're alone much?

Yes. Our inn may be small,
but still needs to be looked after.

We don't have a maid,
so, I have to cook, clean, knit and sew,

and run errands from dusk till dawn.
And mother is so accurate in all of that.

But as of now, my days are pretty calm.

My brother's a soldier.
My little sister's dead.

I sure had some dear trouble
with that child,

but I'd gladly endure
all that hassle again,

for I loved the child so much.

An angel, if similar to you.

I fostered it, and it was very affectionate,

You must've felt pure joy.

But it meant many tough hours as well.
The little one's cradle was next to my bed.

It just had to move an inch,
and I was awake.

Then I had to feed it,
then put it next to me,

Then, if it wasn't quiet, get out of bed
and prance up and down my chamber.

And then at early dawn,
stand at the wash trough,

then go to the market,
and take care of the stove,

and go on and on like this,
today as tomorrow.

So, it's not always done in a good mood,
but food and rest taste better in return.

Oh, women simply have it rough.
A confirmed bachelor is so hard to convert.

All it'd take was someone like you,
to disabuse me on that matter.

Pray tell, dear sir,
haven't you found anyone yet?

Was your heart never bound to anywhere?

The saying goes: A stove on your own,
and a good wife is worth gold and pearls.

I mean, did you never get in the mood?

I've met with
kind reception everywhere.

I meant to say,
has your heart never gotten serious?

One should never dare to jest with women!

Oh, you just don't get me!

I'm awfully sorry about that!

But I do get,
that you are very kind-hearted!

You little angel recognized me,
as soon as you saw me entering?

Didn't you notice?
I lowered my gaze.

And you'll excuse the liberty I took,
to undertake that impudence,

from before, when you left the church?

I was aghast! It never happened before.
No one could upbraid me for it.

Oh, I thought to myself,
did he see something rude in your demeanor?

I'll admit,

I didn't know
what rose itself in your favor to me,

alone I was quite angry with myself
that I couldn't be angrier at you.

Sweet darling.

Oh, leave it be.

What's this, a bouquet?

No, it's just game.

How?

Stop it, you'll laugh at me.

He loves me, he loves me not,

What's this you mumble?

he loves me, he loves me not,

he loves me,
he loves me not,

He loves me!

Yes my dear, let this flowers message
be a message from God to you.

He loves you, do what that means?
He loves you.

I'm getting flustered.

Don't be afraid.
Let this gaze, let this squeeze of hands,

tell you what is unspeakable.

To devote oneself fully,
and feel an eternal blissfulness! Eternal!

Its end would mean despair.
No, unending! Without end!

Night is approaching.
- Yes.

And we should go now.

I'd ask you to stay longer,
it's such a ghastly place alone.

It's as if no one has any better to do,
than to gawk on the steps of the other.

and one starts talking,
all pretentious like that.

what about our little couple?

went upwards on this garden path.
Bratty butterflies!'

- She seems to like him.
- And so does he. It's the way of the world

- There he comes!
- You rascal, teasing me like that!

I'll get you!

My dearest man,
I love you with all my heart.

- Who's this?
- A good friend.

An animal.
Seems like it's time to go.

Yes, it's getting late, dear sir.

Can't I accompany you?
- My mother would... Farewell!

Do I have to go?
...Farewell.

Goodbye!
Until we meet again!

Dear god, what a man like this,
can think about all and everything.

I stand embarrassed beside him,
and just say yes to everything.

For I am just a poor, untaught child,
can't understand why he fancies me.

Exalted ghost,
you gave me everything I've asked for.

You did not show me your face
in that fire for nothing.

You gave me glorious nature as my kingdom.
And the strength to feel it, to enjoy it.

Allowing only a cold, astonished gaze
into her feelings like that of a friend.

I feel now, man cannot get anything whole.

For next to this bliss, you gave me
a companion that I cannot miss already.

Who humiliates me,
with a cold and cheeky face,

and turns your gifts into nothingness,
with just a hint of a word.

He sets ablaze a wild yearning,
as it is his duty.

So, I stagger from desire towards pleasure,
and in pleasure I yearn in more desire.

Have you lived this life enough now?
How can you still enjoy it?

All well and good to try things out,
but then go forth to something new.

Do you know how much vigor this life
brings me in this draught?

If you could even sense it,
you'd be devilish enough, to deny me this bliss.

What an unearthly delight,
to lie down in mountain dew at night,

and to embrace heaven and earth,
let oneself swell into a deity,

to proudly relish in I-don't-know-what,

to soon phase into everything,
when the son of earth vanishes completely,

then the high intuition arises...
I'm not allowed to say how it ends.

You aren't comfortable with that!
You have the right to say 'Tut!' all civilized!

One cannot mention it in
front of chaste ears,

that which chaste hearts cannot spare.

It seems to me, instead of throning
in these woods, it'd suit my high lord,

to remunerate the poor,
young girl for her love.

Time will become pathetical long to her.
She'll stand at the window,

watch the clouds drift by,
up and above the old city walls,

"If I were a little bird...",

is what she'll sing, for days,
for half of her nights.

Sometimes she'll be chipper,
most of the time saddened,

sometimes she'd stop crying,
then calm again, it seems,

and always in love!

- You snake! Snake!
- Fine by me, as long as I get you.

Leave, you wicked one,
and don't mention her.

Don't bring that lust for her sweet body
back before my half-crazed senses.

Nice! You rant and rave,
and it makes me laugh!

This God, creating boys and girls,
decided to turn the highest duty,

into opportunity and chance.

Go on, it's a horrible pity!

You're supposed to be in her chamber,
and not into your grave.

What is this heavenly joy,
to be in her arms?

Even if I warm myself at her chest,
don't I always feel her plight?

Am I not the foreigner,
the one without home?

the fiend without cause or rest?
Herself and her peace I had to erode,

because you, hell,
had to have this sacrifice!

Help me, devil,
to shorten this time of my anxiety!

What has to happen,
might happen right away,

may her entire fate break down on me,
and take myself down with her as well!

How he loams, how he glows!
Go and console her, you fool.

When such a little head sees no escape,
it imagines the end easily.

Long life the one who endures bravely,
and you are pretty devilish yourself,

I don't find anything more tasteless,
than a devil that despairs!

My calmness is gone, my heart is heavy,

I won't ever find my peace again.

Where I don't have him, is a grave to me,

and I couldn't care about the whole world.

My poor head got turned around,
with all my senses in pieces.

My calmness is gone, my heart is heavy,

I won't ever find my peace again.

Only for him I look out the window,

only for him I leave the house.

His high galt,
his noble stature,

the smile of his mouth,
the force of his eyes.

The flow of magic in his speech,

the squeeze of his hands
and oh, his kiss.

My calmness is gone, my heart is heavy,

I won't ever find my peace again.

My chest aches after him,

oh, if I could just grasp and hold him.

and kiss him how I want to,

even while perishing under his.

Promise me, Heinrich...

Whatever I can.

Tell me, what's your stance on religion?

You're a good man by heart,
yet I sense you don't think much of it.

Leave it, my child,
you feel, I'm well-meaning to you.

I'd sacrifice body and blood
for my loved ones,

would never rob anyone
of their feelings and faith.

It's just not right.
You have to believe!

Have to?

Oh, if I could just get to you...

Also, you don't honor the holy sacraments.

I honor them.
- But without eagerness.

You haven't been to a mass
or confession for ages.

Do you believe in God?

My dear, who's allowed to say
I believe in God

You may ask cleric or sage, and their answer
seems to mock the questioner.

So, you don't believe.
- Don't mishear me, fair beauty.

Who can describe him
and proclaim to believe in him?

Who can feel and resign to say,
I don't believe in him.

The comprehender of all.
The preserver of all.

Doesn't he comprehend and preserve
you, me and himself?

Isn't the sky arching up above?
Isn't earth laying firmly below?

Aren't the stars rising
with a friendly gaze?

Don't I look with my own eyes into yours?
And isn't my heart and head longing for you,

weaving in eternal mystery,
invisible and visible?

Fill your heart with that,
as big as it is,

and if you're blissful with that feeling,
call it what you want,

call it happiness, heart, love, God...

I don't have a word for it,
a feeling is everything.

Words are just sound and smoke,
befogging the glow of heaven.

That may be all well and good,
it's similarly to what the cleric preaches,

although with different words.

It's preached by every heart, everywhere,
each one in its own language,

why can't I do so in mine?

It sounds good
when you phrase it like that.

Although it can never be stalwart,
for you're not a Christian!

My dear...

It pained me for long to see you in
companionship with him.

Why?

This person following you,
is hated deeply within my soul.

His presence moves my blood,
and I'm good with everyone else.

But just as much as I like seeing you,
I secretly fear that person.

I even suspect him to be a rogue.
May God forgive me if I wrong him.

It overcomes me so much,
even if he's just getting close,

it makes me feel as if
I wouldn't love you anymore.

And when he's there,
I couldn't even pray anymore,

and that bottles up in my heart.

You, Heinrich, must feel the same way.

You're starting to get antipathy.

I have to go.

Oh, can't I ever cling to you
or just an hour in peace,

and push, chest on chest,
my soul on your soul?

Oh, if only I'd be home alone,
I'd keep my door unlocked for you.

But my mother never sleeps too soundly,
if she'd encounter us, I'd be dead right away.

That's not a problem, my angel.

Here's a vial,
put three drops into her glass,

to pleasantly cover her mind
with a deep night.

The things I wouldn't do for you...
I hope it won't harm her?

Would I Instruct you, my love, otherwise?

When I look at you, dearest man,
don't know what makes me do your bidding.

I already did so much for you

there is barely anything left to do.

The spring chicken, is it gone?

You spied on us again?

I heard it very well,
our dear doctor has been catechized.

I hope that goes well for you,
for girls are very curious,

if one is devotional and chaste,
as in old custom.

They think, if he ducks down there,
he'll follow us as well.

You monster cannot see,
that this true, loving soul, in all her faith,

with her faith solely blessing her,
thinks that she has lost her lover!

You transcendental, amorous wooer!
A little maiden is leading you on.

You mocking spawn of dirt and fire!

And she can read physiognomy really well.
In my presence she gets who-knows-what,

The face I put on tells of hidden meaning.

She suspects that
I must be some kind of genius,

maybe even the devil himself

And now, tonight...

What's it to you?

It's a pleasure to me, after all!

Have you heard about Baerbel?
- Not at all, I don't socialize that much.

Sure. Sibylle told me today.
She got swooned as well, finally.

It's this feigned elegancy.
- What about it?

It's all fishy. She now feeds two,
when she eats and drinks.

And so, she gets what she deserves.
How long did she cling on that man.

Walking together,
courting along the village square,

she wasn't even ashamed of herself
to accept gifts from him.

And with some snuggling and smooching,
her flower's gone, just like that.

The poor thing.

You pity her? When we had spin yarn,
and our mothers wouldn't let us downstairs,

she could be with her lover.

At her door or her shady corridor,
no hour was too long for them.

And now she can tilt her head in shame,
do some repentance as a sinner.

He'll marry her, I'm sure?

He'd be a fool! A briskly lad like that
has other irons in his fire.

He's gone, too.

That's not nice.

She's gonna get it even worse
if she gets him!

The boys will tear up her wedding crown,

and we'll strew cut straw
in front of her door.

How confidently I used to blame others,
I wasn't a poor little maid at all.

How many words did I find for my tongue,
talking about other people's sins,

and howl blessed myself,
play-acted to be so grand?

And now I'm a victim to sin myself.

But everything that made me sin,
was - dear god - so good

and dear to me.

May you, look down on my suffering
with a benevolent gaze.

With a sword in your heart,
suffering thousandfold pain,

you look up to your son's death.

You look up to the lord, sounding sighs,
because of his, and your plight.

Who can feel, how this pain writhes
deep within my body?

How much my heart is in fear,
how it's shaking, what it's demanding,

only you can know,
you alone

No matter where I go,
pain, pain, pain in my chest grows.

And once I am myself,
I cry, I cry, I cry.

My heart is breaking inside me.

I soaked the shards in front of my window,

as I picked those flowers for you
this early morning.

When early sunlight reaches my chamber,
I was already awake, in all my lament!

Help! Save me from dishonor and death!

May you, look down on my suffering
with a benevolent gaze.

As I sat many times at a feast,
where one is prone to boast,

and my companions praised
the meadow of maidens loudly,

I could sit back in confident calmness,
and listen to all that swaggering,

I stroke my beard with a smile,
receive a fresh drink, and then say,

Everything in its own way.

But, is there a single one in this country
similar to my truthful Gretchen,

one that can hold a candle to my sister?

And now, I tear my hair,
it drives me up the walls.

With mockery and upheld nose,
every rogue can affront me now.

I have to sit like a poor borrower,
start to sweat at every random word.

And even if I wanted to beat them all up,
I could not call them liars, after all.

What draws near, what sneaks towards me?

If I'm not mistaken,
it's two of them.

Is it him?!

I'll get him by the neck soon!
He shan't walk away alive!

Just like the glow of the endlessly burning
lamplight at the sacristy window,

weak and weaker dawning to the side,
surrounded by darkness,

that's what it feels like in my heart.

And I feel like a stealthy cat,
sneaking around fire ladders,

quietly sneaking around corners.
I feel quite virtuous like that.

With some thievish desire,
some tupping and tucking...

I feel it haunting all my limbs already,
the wonderful Walpurgis night.

It graces us the day after tomorrow,
that's where you know you're alive.

But now, with the sky glowing full of stars,
you shall hear a true masterpiece.

I'll be singing a moral song,
to persuade her for sure.

♫ Why are you here,
Katrina dear ♫

♫ In daylight clear,
At your lover's door? ♫

♫ No, No!
When, it will let in ♫

♫ A maid, and then ♫

♫ Let out a maid no more! ♫

♫ Let out a maid no more ♫

♫ Take care for once
It's over and done ♫

♫ Goodnight to you,
you poor, poor thing! ♫

♫ Keep your loves belief,
And the pleasure brief ♫

♫ From every thief ♫

♫ Unless you've got a wedding ring ♫

♫ Unless you've got a wedding ring ♫

Whom do you lure, by every element,
you accursed rat-catcher?

To hell with the instrument first,
to hell with the singer afterwards!

Doctor, don't back off now,
stand by me with vigor, as I'll lead you,

Out with your fly-whisk!
Come on and lunge at me, I'll parry!

Parry this!
Of course!

And this!
Why not!

The devil's fencing, what's this,
my arm's flagging already!

Now thrust!
- Alack!

Now this lout is tamed.

Let's go at once.

Come here, come here!
- Bring a light!

Someone's swearing and brawling,
yelling and fencing!

Here lies one dead already!

Murderers, have they fled already?

Who's lying there?

Your mother's son.

God almighty, what misery!

I'm dying. That's spoken soon,
and will be done even sooner.

Dear Gretchen, look,
you're still young

till not understanding enough,
doing wrong.

I tell you in confidence,
you're simply a whore, so just be one.

Dear god, brother, why are you saying that?

Leave our dear god out of this!
What happened, has happened.

and whatever shall happen, will happen.

You started out with just one in secret,
soon there will be more.

And once a dozen has had you,
the whole town might as well.

I can already see a time, indeed,
when all good citizens avoid you,

you strumpet, like they would
avoid an infected corpse.

And even if God forgives you in the end,
you shall be accursed on earth.

Commend your soul to Gods mercy!
Do you want to get blasphemous now?

If only I could get at you,
you shameful, matchmaking woman.

I could hope to atone
for all my sins with that act alone.

My brother, these are pains of hell!

I say, leave off the weeping.

For you, to break away from all honor,
gave me the worst stab in my heart.

I'll go, through the sleep of death, to God,

as a soldier, and honest

How different you felt. Gretchen,
walking up to the altar full of innocence.

Are you praying for your mother's soul,

who passed away into long, long torment
because of you?

And below your heart, isn't there a feeling,
already swelling and fearing a realization?

Alack! Alack!

If only I could get rid of those thoughts,
circling against me.

♫ Dies irae, dies ilia ♫

♫ Solvet saeclum in favilla ♫

I wish I'd be away from here.
It's like the pipe organ suffocates me.

♫ Judex ergo cum sedebit ♫

♫ Quidquid latet adparebit ♫

♫ Nil inultum remanebit ♫

It's so narrow in here.
The walls are closer.

The roof pushes me down! Air!

You can hide, but sin and disgrace
won't stay hidden.

Air? Light?
Woe betide you!

♫ Quid sum miser turic dicturus? ♫

♫ Quern patronum rogaturus? ♫

♫ Cum vix Justus sit securus ♫

The transfigured will
turn their face away from you

The pure will fear to shake your hand.
Woe!

♫ Dies irae, dies ilia ♫

Neighbour, your flask...!
♫ Solvet saeclum in favilla ♫

♫ To Brackens tip the witches stream ♫

♫ The stubbles yellow,
the seed is green ♫

♫ There the crowd of us will meet ♫

♫ Lord Urian has the highest seat ♫

♫ Here's the broom
and here's the stick ♫

♫ The ram is here,
the fork to prick ♫

♫ Tonight, whoever can't deliver ♫

♫ That's a man,
lost forever ♫

♫ And once we've soared around ♫

♫ So, alight then,
on the ground ♫

♫ Cover the heather,
far and wide ♫

♫ With your swarming witches' tide ♫

Make way! Squire Voland is here!

Make way! Sweet mob, make way!

The whole swirl strives upwards,
you think you're pushing and get pushed.

Up above is where I want to be,
can already see the glow and smoke,

there the crowd swarms towards evil,
there, some mysteries could be unraveled!

And some mysteries get raveled.

I hope I'll never loose myself...
But this is what I call a mass.

Two sit over there, the old with the young,
I see they've already bounced a lot.

Today I surely get no rest,
The dance is on, we grab a hand!

One time I had a beautiful dream,
in which I saw an apple tree,

Two beautiful apples dangled on it,
they tempted me, so I mounted it.

You desire apples very much,
ever since paradise,

I feel moved by happiness,
for my garden has those as well.

One time I had a rough dream,
in which I saw a split tree,

It had an enormous hole,
as big as it was, I still liked it.

I offer my highest greetings,
to the knight with the clubfoot.

May he provide a big plug,
if he doesn't fear a big hole.

Mephisto, do you see that?
A pale beauty stands there afar.

She drags herself slowly around,
she seems to walk with closed feet.

I'll admit that I suspect,
that she looks like dear Gretchen!

Leave it, there's nothing good in that,
it's a magic image, lifeless, an idol

Forsooth, those are the eyes of the dead,
which did not get closed by a loving hand.

That's the chest that Gretchen offered me,
that's the body which I enjoyed.

It's sorcery, you easily seduced fool,
everyone sees his darling in it.

What a bliss, what a sorrow,
I cannot part with this view.

How strangely is this neck
decorated with a single, red string,

not thicker than the back of a knife.

Squalidly, despairing, lost on earth
for so long and now trapped,

locked in as a wrongdoer,
in the dungeon for horrible torment,

this fair, unfortunate being,
consigned to evil spirits,

and to the judging,
callous humanity!

And meanwhile, you kept me
with shallow distractions,

concealed her growing misery,
and let her get helplessly corrupted!

She is not the first one.

You dog! Abominable monster!

Not the first one...

I'm shaken in all my bones
from this single one,

and you grin calmly
at the fate of thousands?

There we are again,
at the end of our wit,

where you humans start to snap.

Why do you keep company with us,
if you cannot pull it through?

You want to fly,
but are afraid of heights.

Did we intrude us upon you,
or you upon us?

Save her or you'll regret it,
the most terrible curse upon you for ages!

Who lured her on to destruction,
me or you?

Lead me to her, I say,
and free her.

I shall lead you,
and what I can do, listen,

I'll bemuse the warden’s senses,
you get hold of his keys,

lead her out with human hands,
I'll wait outside and take you away,

that's what I can do.
- Let's go, then!

My mother the whore,
who killed me.

My father, the rogue,
who gnawed on me.

My little sister rested her legs,
at a cool place.

Then I was a little bird from the forest,
flew away, flew away!

A long-lost shudder grips me,
the lament of all humanity touches me.

Here she lives, behind those damp walls,
and her crime was a good-natured delusion.

You hesitate to go to her,
you fear to see her again.

Go forth, your hesitation brings death.

Dear god, they're coming! Bitter death!

Quiet, I came to rescue you.
- If you're human, feel my misery!

Shh, you'll wake him with your yelling.

Who gave you, hangman, this power over me?

You're taking me at midnight already?

Show mercy, and spare my life!

Don't touch me so violently! Spare me.

What have I ever done to you?
Don't let me plead in vain.

I've never seen you in my life!

Can I take any more of this lament?

I am completely in your hands.

Let me feed my child first.
I adored it all night long.

They took it from me, to hurt me!

And now they're saying I killed it.

'TH never be happy again.

A loving one kneels before you,
to free you from your misery.

Yes, let us kneel, to call for all saints.

Look, under those stairs,
under the sill, is seething hell!

The evil one thunders
with dreadful ferocity!

Gretchen! Gretchen!

That was the voice of a friend.
Where is he? I heard him calling out.

I'm free! No one holds me back.

I want to leap to his neck,
and lay on his chest!

He yelled Gretchen!
he stood on the sill,

in the midst of howling
and rattling of hell,

through the grim, devilish sneer,
I heard this sweet, this loving sound.

It's me!

It's you.

Oh, say it again.

It's him!

Where's all that torment gone?

Where is all that
fear of dungeon and chains.

It's you! You came to save me!
I'm saved!

Come with me,
come with me!

Oh, linger for a moment,
I love to linger where you are.

Hurry! If you don't hurry,
we'll have to pay dearly.

What? You can't kiss anymore?

My friend, away from me just briefly,
unlearned how to kiss?

Why do I get so worried at your neck?

Where usually, all heavens
come over me with your words and gaze?

And you kissed me,
as if you tried to suffocate me.

Kiss me, or else... I kiss you!

Alack! Your lips are cold, are silent.

Where has your love gone,
who took it from me?

Come! Follow me! Dear, take heart!
I'll love you with thousandfold glow,

Just follow me!
I beg you for just that!

Is it really you, then?
Is it you for sure?

Come!
Come, the dead of night is almost gone!

I killed my mother!

I drowned my child.

Wasn't it a gift to you and me?

To you, too. It's you, I can't believe it!

Give me your hand, it's not a dream!

Your beloved hand!
But it is wet!

Wipe it off!
It seems to me there's blood on it.

Dear god, what have you done?
Put your rapier away, I beg of you!

Let the past be in the past,
you're killing me!

No, you have to stay alive.
I'll describe the graves to you,

you'll have to take care of them, tomorrow.

Give my mother the best spot,
with my brother right next to it.

My own... a bit to the side, but not too far.

And put the little one to my right chest.

No one else will lie with me.

To nestle to your side,
was a pure, sweet joy.

But I just can't do it anymore,

it's as if I have to
force myself towards you,

as if you're pushing me
away from you.

And yet it's you,
your glance so good, so pious.

If you feel that it's me,
then come!

The grave is outside;
death is lurking; Come, then!

From here into an eternal bed,
but no step further!

You're leaving now, oh Heinrich,
If I could just go with you.

You can if you'd just wanted to,
the door is wide open!

I cannot go, there's no hope for me.
No point in escaping, they waylay for me.

It is so miserable to resort to begging,
with a bad conscience at that.

It's so miserable to curve afield,
and yet they will still catch me.

I'll stay with you.
- Hurry! Hurry! Save your poor child!

Away! Follow the way upwards,
along the stream, over the bridge,

into the forest, left,
where the plank is, in the pond.

Just grab it quickly!
It wants to rise, it's still struggling,

Save it! Save it!

Come to your senses,
just one step and you're free!

If we'd just be past the mountain!
There my mother sits on a stone,

A cold shudder grabs my head,
there my mother sits on a stone,

with a bobbing head;
She's not greeting, not nodding.

her head's just so heavy,
she slept for so long, she won't wake.

She slept, so we could be happy.
It was a joyful time.

If begging and talking doesn't help,
I dare to carry you away.

Leave me be!
No, I cannot stand violence.

Don't touch me so ogreish,
for I did everything to your liking, too.

It's the crack of dawn, my dear.
My dear!

Dawn! Yes, it's dawning!
The last day has arrived.

It was supposed to be my wedding day.

Don't tell anyone you've been
at Gretchen's house already.

Woe betides my crown.
It just happened.

We will meet again,
but not at the dance.

The crowd is gathering, you can't hear it,
the square and alleys can't hold them.

The bell is calling,
the stick is breaking! Ah!

They bind and grab me,
I'm taken to the place of execution.

The sharpness, itching for everyone's neck,
is itching for mine now!

The world got silent.
Like a grave.

I wish I'd never been born.

Go forth or you're doomed!
Useless hesitation! Indecision and babble!

My horses get restless, dawn is breaking.

This one! This one!
Order him away!

What does he want at this sacred place?
He wants me!

You shall live!

Gods' justice,
I commit to you!

Come on, come on,
or I'll leave you with her behind!

I'm yours, lord. Save me!
You angels, exalted hosts,

Encamp around me,
to save me!

Heinrich...
I dread you.

She is judged.

... is saved!

Here! To me!

Heinrich.

Heinrich.