Original subtitles

Little bird, little bird

Awoo!

In the cinnamon tree

In the cinnamon tree

Little bird, little bird

Do you sing for me?

Do you bring me word

Of one I know?

Little bird, little bird

I love her so

Little bird, little bird

And I have to know

Little bird, little bird

Beneath this tree

This cinnamon tree

We learned to love

We learned to cry

For here we met

And here we kissed

And here one cold and moonless night

We said good-bye

Little bird, little bird

Little bird, little bird

Oh, have pity on me

Little bird, little bird

Bring her back to me now

Little bird, little bird

Beneath the cinnamon tree

Little bird, little bird

I have waited too long

Little bird

Without a song

- Little bird, - Little bird, little bird

Please fly, please go

Little bird, little bird

And tell her so

Little bird, little bird

Little bird, little bird

- Sss! - Awoo!

I spit on all your little birds!

Here!

Give it back! Give it back to me!

What's this?

- "The most lovely sovereign... - Oh!

"And high-born lady..."

It's from her knight!

It's a love letter.

- Such fine words. - Well, fine words!

All right. He's a man, isn't he?

He wants what every other man wants. So!

- Yeah! - Yeah!

Hey... soon?

When I'm through in the kitchen.

Now I must consider how sages of the future...

will describe this historic night.

Long after the sun had retired to his couch...

darkening the gates and balconies of La Mancha...

Don Quixote, with lofty expression and measured tread...

held vigil in the courtyard of a mighty castle.

Ohh.

Maker of empty boasts...

on this of all nights to give way to vanity.

No. Don Quixote, take a deep breath of life...

and consider how it should be lived.

Call nothing thine except thy soul.

Love not what thou art, only what thou may become.

Do not pursue pleasure...

or thou mayest have the misfortune to overtake it.

Look always forward.

In last year's nests...

there are no birds this year.

Be just to all men, courteous to all women.

Live in the vision...

of the one for whom great deeds are done...

Dulcinea.

Get up from there! Get up!

Milady.

Why do you call me by that name?

- Because it is yours. - My name is Aldonza!

I know you, milady.

I think you know me not.

All my years I have known you, your nobility of spirit...

long have I seen you in my heart.

Your heart doesn't know much about women.

It knows all, milady.

Woman is the soul of man...

the radiance that lights his way.

Woman is glory.

What do you want of me?

- Nothing. - Liar.

I deserve the rebuke.

- I ask of milady... - Now we get to it!

That I may be allowed to serve her...

that I may hold her in my heart...

that to her I may dedicate each victory...

and call upon her in defeat.

And if at last I give my life...

I give it in the sacred name of Dulcinea.

I must go. Pedro is waiting.

Why do you do these things?

What things?

These ridiculous... the things you do.

I come in a world of iron...

to make a world of gold.

The world's a dung heap...

and we are maggots that crawl on it.

No.

Milady knows better in her heart.

What's in my heart will get me halfway to hell...

and you, Señor Don Quixote...

your head is going to end up a stranger to your neck.

- That doesn't matter. - What does?

Only that I follow the quest.

That for your quest.

What does it mean... quest?

The mission of each true knight is duty...

nay, is privilege.

To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong

To love pure and chaste from afar

To try when your arms are too weary

To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest

To follow that star

No matter how hopeless

No matter how far

To fight for the right

Without question or pause

To be willing to march into hell

For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true

To this glorious quest

That my heart will lie peaceful and calm

When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this

That one man scorned and covered with scars

Still strove with his last ounce of courage

To reach

The unreachable star

Once, just once, would you look at me as I really am?

I see beauty, purity.

Dulcinea.

You! You keep me waiting, would you?

- I wasn't. I didn't mean to... - Milady!

My little flower!

Monster!

Stay clear!

Thou wouldst strike a woman?

Ah, stand back, or I'll break your head.

Thou heart of flint and bowels of cork.

I'm killed.

Jose! Tenorio!

Jose! Tenorio!

- Pedro! - Anselmo! Jose!

Muleteers!

Anselmo!

Tenorio! Anselmo! Muleteers!

Hold thou!

Heed the knocking of thy craven knees!

Prepare to do battle!

Come one! Come all!

Come what may come! Here am I!

Let him be. He's worth a thousand of you!

Ahh, back, whore! I'll show you!

Sancho!

Hold on, Your Grace!

Sancho!

Coming, Master!

Look out, Tenorio!

Help me! Help me! Help me!

Look out, Master! Look out!

Victory.

- Victory? - Victory?

- Victory. - Victory!

- Victory? - Victory.

Victory! Victory!

What's this? All the noise?

What's this? All the noise?

- What dreadful thing? - What glorious thing!

Don Castellano...

I would inform you right has triumphed!

Your Grace, are you hurt?

No, no. A little weakness... temporary.

Your Grace!

Bring water! Water, quick!

Oh, crusader.

Your Grace. Your Grace?

- He's coming round. - Oh.

Oh, that I might always wake unto such a vision.

Don't move.

I must say, Your Grace, we certainly did a job out here.

We routed them.

That bunch will be walking bow-legged for a week.

Milady, it is not seemly to gloat over the fallen.

Let them rot in hell!

Sir, I am a tame and peaceful man.

Please, Sir Knight, I do not wish to be inhospitable...

but I must ask you to leave as soon as you're able.

I am sorry to have offended the dignity of your castle...

and at daylight, I shall depart...

but first, may I remind you of your promise?

Promise?

True, it is not yet dawn...

but I have kept vigil and proven myself in combat.

I therefore beg you, dub me knight.

Oh, certainly. Let's get it over with.

Sancho, would you be good enough to fetch my sword?

Yes, Your Grace.

I cannot speak, milady...

how joyful I am that this ceremony should take place...

in your presence.

Be careful, now.

It is the solemn moment that seals my vocation.

- Are you ready? - I am.

Very well, then. Kneel.

Don Quixote de La Mancha...

I hereby dub thee knight.

My Lord.

Didn't I do it right?

If your lordship could make some mention...

of the deeds I've performed to deserve this honor...

Oh, of course.

Don Quixote de La Mancha...

having proved yourself this day...

in glorious and terrible combat...

and by my authority as lord of this castle...

I hereby dub thee knight.

My Lord...

Something else?

If your lordship recalls...

it is the custom to grant the new knight...

an additional name.

If your lordship could devise such a name...

Uh, let me see.

Hail, Knight

Of the Woeful Countenance

Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Wherever you go

People will know

Of the glorious deeds

Of the Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Farewell and good cheer

Oh, my brave cavalier

Ride onward to glorious strife

I swear when you're gone

I'll remember you well

For all of the rest of my life

Hail, Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Wherever you go

Face to the foe

They will quail at the sight

Of the Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Oh, valorous knight

Go and fight for the right

And battle the villains that be

But, oh, when you do

What will happen to you?

Thank God I won't be there to see

Hail, Knight

- Of the Woeful Countenance - Hail, Knight

- Of the Woeful Countenance - Hail, Knight

Of the Woeful Countenance

Hail, Knight

Hail, Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Knight of the Woeful Countenance

Wherever you go

People will know

Of the glorious deeds

Of the Knight of the Woeful

Countenance

I thank you.

Well, Sir Knight, I am going to bed.

And I advise you to do the same.

Knight of the Woeful Countenance.

It's a beautiful name.

Come, Your Grace. Let's get you to bed.

Not yet, Sancho. I owe something to my enemies.

- That account's been paid. - Not yet, milady.

- What? - Nobility demands.

It does?

Yes. Therefore I will go to them.

I'll go. I'll minister.

There is no need.

They were my enemies, too.

Oh, blessed one.

Come, Your Grace. Let's get you to bed.

Sancho, I do envy my enemies.

Your Grace, you're tired.

No, Sancho, I feel quite well.

Your Grace, many a man...

has gone to bed in the evening feeling well...

only to wake up in the morning and find himself dead.

- That's a proverb. - Yes, Your Grace.

- I don't approve of them. - I know, Your Grace.

What in hell do you think you're doing?

I'm going to minister to your wounds.

- You're what? - Nobility demands.

Turn over, you foxy goat!

You...

Sons of whores!

Let me out!

No!

Bastards!

Bastards! Bastards!

Bastards!

Ow! Bastards!

Bastards!

Let me go!

Let me go!

No!

Enough!

Load up. We're leaving.

What do we do with this?

We'll take it along.

Let these events be proof to thee, my Sancho.

Nobility triumphs. Virtue will always prevail.

Oh, yes, Your Grace.

Now, in this moment of glory...

do I confirm my knighthood and my oath.

For all my life, this I do swear.

To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

What is that?

One of the hazards of this prison...

the brave men of the Inquisition!

It means they're coming to fetch someone.

Haul him off, put the question to him.

Next thing he knows, he is dead.

They're coming for me very possibly.

What, Cervantes, not afraid? Where's your courage?

Or is that in your imagination, too?

No escape. This is happening.

Not to your brave man of La Mancha, but to you.

Quick, Cervantes, call on him. Let him shield you.

Let him save you, if he can... from that.

No! No! No! No!

Well, not this time.

But you see, Cervantes, there is a difference...

between reality and illusion...

and a difference between these prisoners...

and your men of lunacy.

I'd say rather men whose illusions were very real.

Much the same thing, isn't it, really?

Why are you poets so fascinated with madmen?

We have much in common.

You both turn your backs on life?

We both select from life!

A man has to come to terms with life as it is.

Life as it is.

I have lived for over forty years, and I've seen...

life as it is.

Pain...

misery...

cruelty beyond belief.

I've heard all the voices of God's noblest creature.

Moans from bundles of filth in the street.

I've been a soldier and a slave.

I've seen my comrades fall in battle...

or die more slowly under the lash in Africa.

I've held them at the last moment.

These were men who saw life as it is.

Yet they died despairing.

No glory, no brave last words.

Only their eyes, filled with confusion...

questioning why.

I do not think they were asking why they were dying...

but why they had ever lived.

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?

Perhaps to be too practical is madness.

To surrender dreams, this may be madness.

To seek treasure where there is only trash...

too much sanity may be madness!

And maddest of all...

to see life as it is and not as it should be!

I am I, Don Quixote

The Lord of La Mancha

Destroyer of evil am I

I will march to the sound

Of the trumpets of glory

Forever to conquer or die

I don't understand.

Don't understand what, my friend?

Why you're so cheerful.

First you find your lady, then you lose her.

Never lost.

Well, she ran off with those muleteers.

Doubtless for some high purpose.

High purpose with those low characters?

Sancho, always thine eye sees evil in preference to good.

My eye did not make this world. It only sees it.

Right, and furthermore, I think you should call a truce.

What, and allow wickedness to flourish?

I've noticed wickedness wears pretty thick armor.

And for that would you have me cease?

Nay, let a man be struck down a thousand times!

- Still must he rise and... - Do battle, yes.

Lies, lies, lies! Madness and lies!

Lies, lies, lies! Madness and lies!

They shall be punished, who did this crime.

Crime?

You know the worst crime of all? Being born.

For that you get punished your whole life.

- Dulcinea. - Enough of that!

Get yourself to a madhouse!

Rave about nobility where no one can hear.

- Milady. - I'm not your lady!

I'm not any kind of a lady.

For a lady has modest and maidenly airs

And a virtue a blind man could see that I lack

It's hard to develop

These maidenly airs

In a stable, laid flat on your back

Won't you look at me, look at me

God, won't you look at me?

Look at the kitchen slut

Reeking of sweat

Born on a dung heap

To die on a dung heap

A strumpet men use and forget

If you feel that you see me

Not quite at my virginal best

Cross my palm with a coin

And I'll willingly show you the rest

Never deny that you are Dulcinea.

Take the clouds from your eyes and see me as I really am!

You have shown me the sky

But what good is the sky

To a creature who'll never do better than crawl?

Of all the cruel bastards

Who've badgered and battered me

You are the cruelest of all

Can't you see what your gentle insanities do to me?

Rob me of anger and give me despair

Blows and abuse I can take

And give back again

Tenderness I cannot bear

So please torture me now

With your sweet Dulcineas no more

I am no one, I am nothing

I'm only Aldonza the whore

Now and forever you are milady, Dulcinea.

No!

Master.

Master!

Is this Don Quixote de La Mancha?

If it is, and he is not afraid to look upon me...

let him stand forth.

I am Don Quixote...

Knight of the Woeful Countenance.

Then hear me, thou charlatan.

Thou art no knight, but a foolish pretender.

Thy pretense is a child's mockery...

and thy principles dirt beneath my feet.

False, graceless knight...

before I chastise thee, tell me thy name.

Thou shalt hear it in due course.

And why seekest thou me?

Thou called upon me, Don Quixote.

Thou reviled me and threatened me.

The Enchanter.

Behold at thy feet the gauge of battle.

On what terms do we fight?

Choose.

Very well. If thou art beaten, thy freedom is forfeit...

and thou must obey my every command.

And thy conditions?

If thou livest...

thou shalt kneel and beg forgiveness of milady, Dulcinea.

Ha! Thy lady is an alley cat.

- Monster! Defend thyself! - Halt.

Thou asked my name, Don Quixote.

Now I shall tell it.

I am called the Knight of the Mirrors.

Look, Don Quixote. Look in the mirror of reality...

and behold things as they truly are.

Look, Don Quixote.

Look in the mirror of reality.

Look! What seest thou, Don Quixote?

A gallant knight? Naught but an aging fool.

Look, dost thou see him?

A madman dressed for a masquerade.

A masquerade!

Look, Don Quixote. See him as he truly is.

See the clown.

Look, what seest thou, Don Quixote?

Look! Dost thou see him?

A madman! Look, Don Quixote!

See him as he truly is.

Look, Don Quixote.

Drown, Don Quixote.

Drown in the mirror.

Drown, Don Quixote. Drown in the mirror.

Go deep. Deep. Deep.

Deep. Go deep. Deep.

The masquerade is ended.

Confess! Thy lady is a trollop...

and thy dream the nightmare of a disordered mind.

It is done.

Your Grace, it is Dr. Carrasco.

It is only Sanson Carrasco.

Forgive me, Señor Quijana. It was the only way.

Don Miguel de Cervantes?

Who calls?

Don Miguel.

Cervantes! Cervantes!

Don Miguel de Cervantes!

Don Miguel de Cervantes!

Prepare to be summoned.

Summoned? By whom?

The judges of the Inquisition.

Captain? How long?

Soon.

But not yet. Good.

You'll just have time to finish your story.

The story is finished.

Of course. Quite the proper ending.

No, no, no!

I don't like this ending!

And I don't think the jury likes it, either.

Well, then. He's failed.

Ah, Don Miguel de Cervantes.

The court hereby sentences you...

- Wait! - What for?

- Time. I need time. - I'll grant you that.

But, uh, what about the Inquisition?

A few moments only. I'll improvise an ending.

A farmhouse on the plains of La Mancha.

Candle.

A room in that house.

When a man who once called himself Don Quixote...

lies in the shadows between living and dying.

Can you do nothing?

I'm afraid there will be no need of my services as a doctor.

Where is he, I wonder?

In what dark cavern of the mind?

- According to recent theory... - Oh, Doctor, please.

Don't you think I did right?

There's the contradiction.

You again!

- Tell him to go away. - What harm can he do?

It's all been done.

Your reverence? Could I talk to him?

I'm afraid he won't be able to hear you.

Well, then, I won't say much.

No mention of knight-errantry.

Oh, no. One does not speak of the rope...

in the house of the hanged.

Proverb. Excuse me, Your Grace.

- Your Grace? - Just a few words.

Little ones... to lighten his heart.

A little gossip

A little chat

A little idle talk of this and that

I'll tell him all the troubles I have had

And since he doesn't hear

At least he won't feel bad

Shh, shh.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Oh, what a time I've been having...

since I got back, Your Grace.

You know my wife Teresa, how strong she is...

muscles like a bull.

Well, she beat me.

She hit me with everything but the house itself.

And she yells at me...

"Where's all the gold and all the jewels...

"you were going to bring back?

"Where's that kingdom you were going to conquer?"

Well, I kept a dignified silence, Your Grace...

because there are some questions you just can't answer.

Like when a man yells, "What are you doing with my wife?"

That's a question you just can't answer.

Of course, I hit her back, Your Grace.

But she's a lot harder than I am...

and as the saying goes...

"Whether the stone hits the pitcher...

"or the pitcher hits the stone...

"it's going to be bad for the pitcher."

So I've got bruises from here to...

Oh, I haven't fought a windmill in a fortnight

And the humble joys get duller every day

Why, when I'm asleep, a dragon with his fiery tongue a-waggin'

Whispers, Sancho, won't you please come out and play?

That's enough!

- What did I do? - I warned you.

- I didn't do anything. I was... - Please be quiet.

My friend?

Did Your Grace say something?

You are a fat pudding...

stuffed with proverbs.

Oh, that's very well-known, Your Grace.

Well, as I was saying...

- Uncle? - My dear.

Good morning, Father.

Or is it evening?

How do you feel, sir?

I am but well.

Can you speak your name?

Should a man not know his name?

If you would just say it.

Alonso Quijana.

Father?

I am here, beside you.

I wish to make a will.

Yes.

Of course.

- Uncle? - Forgive me.

L... When I close my eyes, I see a pale horse...

and I am bid mount him.

No, uncle, you will get well.

Oh, my dear master's worship, do not die...

but live on many years.

Dying is such a waste of good health.

Soft and fair, my dear ones.

In last year's nests, there are no birds this year.

Come closer.

I have dreamed so strangely.

Oh, such dreams.

I... thought I had declared myself a...

No, I dare not tell you, lest you think me mad.

- Put them from your mind. - They are gone.

Nor do I know what they meant.

Father?

Just speak, and I shall write.

I, Alonso Quijana...

with one foot in the stirrup...

and all too ready for the final ride...

Don't admit anyone.

Do hereby make the following disposition of my estate.

The bulk I leave to my beloved niece Antonia Quijana...

with the exception of certain personal bequests...

which are as follows...

I will allow nobody into that room!

Get out of the way, you hag!

- What is that, Sanson? - It's that slut from the inn.

I tried to stop her, and she threatened to...

Tear your eyes out if you touch me again, by God!

- Get out! - Not before I see him!

Let her be.

In my house there will be courtesy!

Come closer, girl.

What is it you wish?

Don't you know me?

Should I?

I am Aldonza.

I'm so sorry. L... I don't recall anyone of that name.

Oh, please, My Lord.

Why do you say, "My Lord"?

You are My Lord, Don Quixote.

Don Quixote?

Forgive me. I am confused by shadows.

It is possible I knew you once. I do not remember.

This way.

Please try to remember.

Is it so important?

Everything.

My whole life.

You spoke to me.

And everything was... different.

I spoke to you?

And you looked at me...

and you called me by another name.

Dulcinea.

Dulcinea

Once you found a girl

And called her

Dulcinea

When you spoke the name

An angel seemed to whisper

Dulcinea

Dulcinea

Then perhaps it was not a dream.

You spoke of a dream...

and about the quest.

A quest?

How you must fight?

And it doesn't matter whether you win or lose...

if only you follow the quest.

What did I say to you?

Tell me the words.

"To dream...

"the impossible dream."

But they are your own words.

"To fight...

"the unbeatable foe."

Don't you remember?

"To bear...

"with unbearable sorrow."

You must remember!

"To run...

"where the brave dare not go."

To right...

the unrightable wrong.

Yes.

To love...

pure and chaste from afar.

Yes.

To try when your arms are too weary.

To reach the unreachable star.

Thank you, My Lord.

Milady! This is not seemly.

On your knees to me?

- But, My Lord, you're not well. - Not well?

What is sickness to the body of a knight-errant?

What matter wounds? For each time he falls...

he will rise again... and woe to the wicked!

- Sancho? - Here, Your Grace!

- My armor, my sword! - More misadventures!

Adventures, old friend!

Oh, the trumpets of glory

Now call me to rise

Yes, the trumpets are calling to me

And wherever I ride

Ever staunch at my side

My squire and my lady will be

I am I, Don Quixote

The Lord of La Mancha

Our destiny calls, and we go

And the wild winds of fortune

Will carry us onward

Whithersoever they blow

Whithersoever they blow

Onward to glory we go

Master!

- Master! - Uncle!

Master.

My Lord.

De profundis clamo ad te

Domine

Domine

Audi vocem meam

Fiant aures tuae intentae

Ad vocem abse creationis meae

Si delictarum memorium

Serva neris

Domine

Domine...

He is dead.

My master is dead.

A man died.

He seemed a good man...

but I did not know him.

But you saw.

Don Quixote's not dead.

Believe, Sancho.

Believe.

Aldonza...

Dulcinea.

Dulcinea.

Under authority of the Holy Office of the Inquisition...

by reason of certain offenses...

committed against His Majesty's Most Catholic Church...

the following is summoned to give answer...

and submit his person for purification...

if it be so ordered...

Don Miguel de Cervantes.

I am a popular defendant.

Summoned before one court...

before I've quite finished with another.

Well, what says this jury?

You know, I think I know now what this contains.

The history of your mad knight.

As much as is written.

Read as well there as you did here...

and you may not burn.

I have no intention of burning.

Cervantes?

I think Don Quixote...

is brother to Cervantes.

God help us. We are both men of La Mancha.

For me alone was Don Quixote born...

and I for him.

I give him to you.

Ready, old friend?

Courage.

To dream the impossible dream...

to fight the unbeatable foe.

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go

To run where the brave dare not go

Though the goal be forever too far

To try though you're wayworn and weary

To reach the unreachable star

To reach the unreachable star

Though you know it's impossibly high

To live with your heart striving upward

To a far

Unattainable

Star