Original subtitles

Shadow of Angels

# Evening's silence has now paled

# yet by th' creek a nightingale

# In her sweet manner sings,

# lamenting through the Vale.

eeny, meeny, mee

I'll fuck you in the knee

eeny, meeny, moo

the hole belongs to you

Well I don't know, this cold between the damp sheets.

And the sheets are always damp.

Only Oscar could dry them properly.

Oscar did wonders, but he lied to me.

A healthy lie is like fresh dew on Judgment Day.

What would the truth be without lies? A lie itself.

Excuse me, I'm in a hurry, my nerves!

Well, my boss...

you see, that rich Jew, most of you know him already...

oh, to have such a brain! He wants, and within half an hour,

- is there method in his madness? -

one with fat breasts, those were his words, not tits, he said, but breasts.

Fantasizing about a mother whose face he wants to slap,

while licking those fat boobs instead.

Once you have money,

madness will soon follow, that's what I always say to console myself.

You must excuse me now, we'll continue our chat some other time.

When no one sings, it's peaceful.

Except when you gabble.

Please don't fight. It always makes me so sad.

For your sake the world will unveil itself.

But you are right.

What's the use?

I enjoy my food, since man can no longer spoil my appetite.

Unless hunger devours itself. Like thoughts do.

It's dark. And there's a trembling inside my head.

Do you know the fable of the Grinning Chinese?

No!

Me neither.

But it's bound to exist. I'm sure.

Because everything exists.

The world is small.

And the thoughts, our countless thoughts,

push it to the brink of disaster.

One fine day...

it'll briefly shudder and then collapse.

And those thoughts, the ugly ones and the beautiful ones..

will become nothing,

nothing and everything,

as meaningless as they are now.

You are mean, Lily.

You mock me and secretly you triumph over me.

You want to win.

And your victory gives you the warmth you need...

while I freeze to death in your omnipotence.

Don't think.

Thoughts kill pleasure.

I'm afraid.

I've always been afraid of women.

I don't think I'll ever touch one.

Then their searing rays cannot scorch me.

But that's not true.

For ...

death will come if no woman touches you.

These two thoughts will fight it out.

Both lead to death.

I'll choose death through woman... this is what passed through my mind...

and so I decided to be victim to the executioner...

to woman.

I'll take the redhead,

the blonde is like glass, she's brittle and I might cut myself.

And I can't stand blood.

It's cold.

And Raoul needs money.

Love?

Love? Not love!

Five marks. Ten!

Hate!

Hate, good!

Better than love.

Much love not good.

Much love, much disease.

Fuck off, you filthy migrant dick,

you stinking mangy dog, you monster, you puke ...

Well?

Don't beat me up!

Who's beating you? Beating means love.

So who's going to beat you?

You love me, so...

So I beat you when I love you.

But I can't love you all day long and all night long. And again all day long.

How much?

I see! Again nothing.

The third time this week.

It was cold, Raoul.

I practically walked my legs off.

I did exercises, I practiced deep breathing..

I ended up praying.

For hours.

Not a soul came.

And now?

How does it make me look?

In front of the other guys, the successful ones?

Could I have a beer with a clear conscience?

Won't the others guess: that guy is a failure.

I beg your forgiveness.

What good is your forgiveness to me?

It's pitiful, dying with such meekness.

Give me my freedom, Lily, and freedom means money.

It's Saturday and the banks are closed.

The racetrack's waiting. I must do what I must do.

Get back to the job. And bring some quick results.

Get moving!

It's cold, Raoul. My knees are trembling.

I've been coughing for days.

This cough is scary.

I wanted to see the doctor, but I had no money.

Don't try to bargain with me.

I'll wait two hours, then I'll come after you and make you forget your meekness.

I could ask Miss Violet or Fatty.

But in this cold! Try to understand!

I want to gamble with money I've earned myself,

borrowed money is unlucky,

as you well know, and you keep on talking,

and time's running out and working against you.

I know that you're right.

You're right and you're kind.

And you beat me as little as possible,

and you forgive me my sins, I know all that.

But this cold... it freezes the fuzz off my skin.

I'll be like a plucked chicken, pawning my gold teeth.

Whom can I turn to for help?

They despise you because you're skinny.

You should eat. They're paying by weight.

I've been telling you for years, but are you even listening?

I'm listening. When you speak, I listen.

Even at night when you sleep I try to interpret your very breathing.

You know me so little?

I know you.

And where I know you, you don't frighten me.

But those dark thoughts, those strange feelings...

how can someone like me understand them? That frightens me a lot.

And without fear you cannot live?

Fear keeps you warm, keeps you alive.

Without fear you're cheeky, insolent and lazy.

And the dead, Lily, don't cry.

Now go!

Be good to the man who's there when you need him.

Go, little one, and get yourself fucked.

Don't forget the rubbers, nor the time I allotted to you.

And be fair! Men are human beings, too.

So he wasn't sympathetic?

No.

He asked me to have another try.

He has the right to be not sympathetic.

That's just the point, Lily.

Rights and impotence, and where to look for them and where to find them!

Hello, handsome. How about it?

You can do it without a rubber. It's tasty, believe me, real tasty.

Despair - call it by its proper name, that would raise your capital.

Or you might get your skull broken and your face smashed.

People say that things are the way they are, and that it's a good thing.

And their own despair is non-existent or it's cheap.

For sale. They'd trade with anything.

With suspenders and with the soul that's not their own.

An hour and a half to go, and then he'll beat me again ...

As he loves me, he beats me.

And I keep thinking that had I learnt to enjoy pain, I'd enjoy the blows.

And love would be love, which it isn't.

I'll lend you my fur, dearie. You're freezing.

He asks me: What was his cock like? Big or small? Did it take him long?

Or did he come right away?

He wants to know if he moaned, if he called me names.

I tell him I've forgotten.

I didn't think it so important.

Then there's a crash and the stars twinkle on the firmament.

And I learn to get fucked with a clear mind...

with eyes and ears open.

What does he get from it?

Does he masturbate in the loo? Does he become another man?

No one is the way he is. Everyone's different.

Who could know for sure?

This city's getting bigger from day to day.

And the people in it are getting smaller and smaller.

It's too cold.

The men stay at home with their wives.

They're telling their children tales about witches and wicked fairies.

They've cleaned up "The Mexican Sun".

They've arrested R�ckert. There had been a bank robbery. It's a clear case.

And Gustav?

I have nothing definite. Just rumours. You know how it is.

Whispers going round town, scaring people.

They have their methods of killing those they want to.

I've been coughing for days.

This week I didn't have enough money to see a doctor.

I console myself with next week and yet I hope it won't be enough again.

What could he tell me? That I'm healthy? Then it'd be just a waste of money.

And if I'm going to die, then I don't want to know.

People joke about those things.

That's no good. Life's too short for jokes.

Do you know the hen that lays the golden eggs?

I'm sure there must be plenty. Unfortunately, I've never come across one.

That's too bad. I keep on looking and never find one.

It's all so strenuous.

The hen, according to father,

that lays the golden eggs, that's the capital.

How can I find the capital?

Houses, streets, that's it, I tell myself.

The result: I barely make do.

On Saturdays I treat myself to two broads.

One of you is going to stay out in the cold, freezing.

That's how it is, and I couldn't care less.

Happiness is not always funny.

That's Lily Brest, boss. She's always feeling the cold.

The cities are cold places.

It's only fitting for people to freeze in them. Why build cities like that?

If he doesn't stop laughing, I'll kick him out.

If you don't stop laughing, he'll kick you out, you gnome!

If a Christian laughs, the rich Jew can send him to hell.

I'm not a Jew like all the others.

And anyone who doesn't know this ...

This is the Little Prince, Madame.

He'll inherit everything if he behaves.

Strictly between us:

I often smile when I think of death. What else can one do?

And good behaviour is nothing to be ashamed of. Right?

Certainly, boss. Good behaviour is nothing to be ashamed of.

Yes, yes.

And the dwarf, that monster...

the gnome...

I feed him when I'm in a good mood, which is unfortunately quite often,

because business is good, Madame.

I can't complain.

Give her a handkerchief, dwarf, so she can wipe the snot off her puss.

He builds houses, you know, and pulls down the old ones.

That makes him rich. And unpleasant too, you should know.

But he's not happy, that's why he's easier to endure.

What does he know about men like us? Whether we're happy?

How could he know?

He knows nothing, boss.

But he gabs because that's what gabbers do: gab.

Who listens to dwarves anyway?

Who knows?

That's why they're so dangerous: Nobody knows who trusts them.

Luckily there aren't many of them.

But there are still too many of your sort around.

He keeps telling me, but he never means it.

The fat whore, by the way, was a disappointment.

She wasn't worth the money. But then, who is anyway?

He sent her away, didn't even touch her.

That means something.

He says he's potent. Yet he refused.

She talks like a waterfall and thinks my brain's empty,

only because I need a whore.

What's that supposed to mean?

The whore needs a man to pay her. The man needs a whore.

The simplest business in the world. And the most honest.

Have you ask Madame if she can spare an hour for a rich Jew?

I think she can, even if my cock is circumcised.

It's more hygienic. Explain it to her,

if she doesn't know already from experience.

He's disgusting, girl, but he pays well.

And his fabled virility ...

is legend.

Nothing to worry about.

Ok, gang!

You can crawl into your beds and wear down your foreskins.

Run along!

Am I a Jew who must take revenge on the poor?

That's how it should be, and it's fitting and

peace and quiet, Madame, are immensely gratifying.

You don't have to answer. I thank you very much.

I'm tired of dialogues full of lies that are nothing but a waste of time

all of us could put to better use.

"This image is enchantingly beautiful" [Tamino's aria]

a city doomed on self-destruction! Well,

get in.

It'll be worth your while, being consumptive.

# June bug, fly away

# father's gone to war

# mother's gone to Pomerania, Pomerania has been burned to the ground

# June bug, fly away

You know, sometimes I feel afraid.

How could you know?

Business is going too well.

Punishment will surely follow, is bound to follow.

But instead of receiving punishment, I do the punishing, timid little me.

Nobody but me.

No freedom, no desire.

You are beautiful, it seems to me.

But it makes no difference. Be whatever you like.

Beauty? For whom was beauty ever enough?

I buy up old houses in this city.

I demolish them, build new ones that sell well.

The city protects me. They have to.

Furthermore I'm a Jew.

The Chief of Police is my friend, broadly speaking.

The Mayor likes to invite me over for a drink.

And I can count on the City Councilors.

Of course, nobody's happy about condoning such things.

But I didn't plan it, the plan existed even before I came here.

I don't care if children cry...

or if the old and feeble suffer.

I don't care when some are screaming with rage.

I simply ignore it. What else should I do?

Burden myself with a bad conscience? Develop sores, get sick with the plague?

I believe in God...

as for justice within these walls ...

Must my soul take the responsibility

for other people's decisions that I only carry out, collecting the profit...

which I need to pay for what I need.

What do I need? Need, need!

Strange.

When you repeat a word very often,

it loses its meaning which was arbitrary anyway.

The city needs...

an unscrupulous businessman to allow her to change.

And she must protect him.

Is it already fear

when you look for protection even before any signs of danger appear?

And the fear that my legs might die off.

I smoke too much and almost daily I read about those horrible things.

Oh!

Forgive me, the hour is up...

by three minutes.

That'll cost you a pile of money, Jew!

Raoul, look!

Raoul, money!

You can gamble now, you can be somebody again with the others.

They can't despise you anymore.

No one's above you. You're the greatest. Oh, Raoul!

A grand? [1000 marks]

Is it true?

In this cold, a grand?

What did you do for it?

Open your trap, you whore! What did you do for the money.

You're hurting me. You're breaking my arm.

What did you do for it?

A grand in this weather?

Did you lick his arse, you slut, you whore? Did you eat his shit?

Speak up, shout the truth in my face before I kill you.

I made love to him.

You made love to him?

You're the lowest, most sickening slut I know.

She made love to him!

Who was he? A millionaire's son? A tennis player?

Making love to that sort!

I don't want this money. I spit on it.

He was a Jew. A fat ugly Jew.

Not one of those you hate, Raoul. Not a tennis player.

Just a Jew.

A Jew? What did he do with you?

Did he beat you or kick you? Or what else was worth so much money?

Nothing. We just made love.

Is his cock so big that he pays so much?

Did he stretch your cunt? Did he widen your hole?

Did you scream with pleasure?

Did you liked it? Tell me!

His cock is very big.

Finally!

How big?

Big. 20 cm, maybe more.

Maybe more! Filthy whore, what else?

It's thick, very thick. - How thick?

Like a beer bottle, even thicker.

So she got fucked by a beer bottle!

Oh those broads! They're all the same.

What else?

His has great endurance, it lasted an hour.

Yes?

I was just passing by and I heard you.

I told myself I ought to go in, see if I can help.

Thank you.

Nobody can help me.

But it was kind of you.

I heard someone coughing.

That was you, wasn't it?

One must take care of oneself,

especially of one's health.

What are you saying, my good woman? And to whom?

Good God!

We're all stuck in the same dirt.

The things they ask of you...

for a bit of security.

Sometimes...

I don't even know who's talking.

It just pours out of me.

You must forgive me.

There's nothing to forgive. You mean well.

Although it's maybe the worst thing, when people mean well.

I'm in a bad way.

It's the cold... the pavements.

You can go now.

I don't like to be a bother.

Hardly anyone does.

Many are nasty.

But there's usually method in nastiness, isn't there?

And most of the time it has an aim.

You won't save yourself this way.

Who wants to be saved?

Good night.

And from what?

Who knows anything about himself anyway?

# When teenagers dream

# Of kisses from men

# It's even more thrilling

# Than the greatest novel

# More thrilling than the movies

She's your daughter, Louise.

Because she didn't turn out to be your son.

One doesn't kill oneself.

But she's alive.

Unfortunately.

I can only repeat: unfortunately.

Look at yourself. Walking up and down like a tiger, restless.

What's supposed to calm me down? This household perhaps?

Where people keep killing themselves every other minute?

You're exaggerating.

The right degree of exaggeration gets you closer to the truth of things.

You're bluffing.

If you say so.

It's love. Someone's jilted her.

At her age, you don't get jilted. She's 13, it would be a bit too much.

Eat up!

How can I eat with a mad daughter around?

She isn't mad, she's sick.

It's the same thing.

You'd sell yourself for a joke, even a lousy one.

I already sell myself for less than that.

Yes, that's true.

If it's too little for you...

I won't stand in your way.

But please take your daughter as well.

Should you forget her, I'll throw her out of the window.

You're a brute, you go from one extreme to the other.

She was already masturbating as a two year old.

That's normal.

God knows, I didn't masturbate at that age.

You developed late.

I have resigned myself long ago to being a laughing stock on this earth.

You really ought to incant those phrases, instead of just uttering them.

Thank God, I have my nights.

Don't forget your sandwich.

Lend me your dark lipstick, honey, I've mislaid mine.

Here it is. You should take better care of your things.

We're running short of money.

Good God!

Who on earth could stand this constant whining?

Nobody's whining, I'm just talking.

You despise me. Today I can tell you.

You tell me every day. And still I don't despise you.

But who jilted her?

A Yugoslav, I think. Some foreigner at any rate.

Listen to that!

A Yugoslav daring to jilt my daughter.

I guess he didn't love her.

That must be it.

Because she doesn't eat, because she's too skinny.

But it's also your fault, Louise, for spoiling her all the time.

If it makes things easier for you,

I'll take all the blame and ask for God's forgiveness.

You're making fun of me. That's not becoming in a mother.

Be a dear and fetch me a pair of nylons from the bedroom.

The ones with a seam.

They're on the left.

Or on the dressing table.

I hid them.

Because I'm afraid of your daughter.

She steals, you know.

Lily doesn't steal, she borrows.

Steals them and returns them with ladders.

That's worse than stealing, that's ... the word escapes me.

Whatever word escaped you, is was the wrong one, honey.

Thank you. So what?

How do I look?

You look gorgeous, honestly.

As you always do.

Really?

Honestly, sweetheart!

You know very well I don't lie.

# red poppies, why are you withering

# you should glow and be fiery like my heart

Is she asleep?

Yes, she's asleep.

Can't I see her?

No.

Some other time, perhaps.

Life's tough, you know.

You lost all of it, didn't you?

Money easily earned is easily spent.

Then it's all right.

The horses wouldn't run the way I imagined.

That's destiny.

That's not destiny.

It's stupidity.

You don't understand.

But it doesn't matter.

Thanks!

Don't you feel well?

How do you mean?

You're different today. So ... superior.

Unfortunately I'm no longer angry with you.

I have trouble breathing, Raoul, that's all.

You all keep on whining. That's all you can think of.

I'm not whining, Raoul, that's not my way.

I'm merely stating a fact.

Listening to you, one might even think you had some sense.

They'd be mistaken, of course.

Come here, let me fondle you.

Like this ... that's nice ...

You're my good girl, aren't you?

Yes?

Excuse me.

Am I disturbing?

You are, but it doesn't matter.

We're not in a hurry.

It's about the sugar... You promised to lend me some, Lily.

Because it's Saturday, you know.

What perfect timing!

Come with me, Emma. I'll get you your sugar.

Is this Miss Brest's residence?

This is my place.

But, it says "Brest" on the door.

Then why do you ask?

Yes, it was unnecessary.

It sure was.

You know...

it's a way I have.

I like to express myself in a mannered way.

It was easy to learn and the effect is tremendous.

Besides, my boss, the rich Jew, appreciates these...

Who?

The rich Jew. You must have heard of him.

Get out!

Don't take it to heart.

It's just a passing fancy of his!

Some people can afford to indulge in them.

Say, is it true that his cock is as long and thick

as a bottle?

I couldn't really say.

I only saw it once...

when he was pissing, because even Jews have to piss.

And what I saw then was rather less impressive.

Rather less...

But as you know, amazing things can happen to cocks.

Miss Brest isn't in, perchance?

Perchance rather less. But she's here.

So?

I hate to be rude, but I'd like to see her.

Does he again want to ...

He's rather reticent.

Even his intimates rarely know what's on his mind.

Rather reticent.

Lily!

Oh, it's you.

I didn't know you were coming.

I'm not ready.

It doesn't matter. He expects you as you are. Come with me!

I would like to see Miss Brest.

I want to offer my apologies.

She's with the Jew who pays her.

I already heard that the gentleman had his eye on her.

That's why I'm here.

I've done her an injustice. I couldn't possibly guess...

that she'd acquire practically over night such celebrity.

Celebrity?

Indeed.

And as of today, this address is highly valued in society circles.

You don't say!

Personally, women don't interest me.

I don't mind admitting it.

But one does what one can.

Are you of the other persuasion?

I pick and choose.

On the one hand, I do what I like.

On the other, I do what I have to, to avoid gossip.

My father has business dealings with the Jew, and the Jew with him.

They both have to "jump over their own shadow". [swallow their pride]

I've...

never tried it before.

Jumping over your shadow?

No, the other thing. What turns you on.

It doesn't cost you anything. Give it a try.

Would you mind... helping me... try it?

I'm not so choosy.

And life is shorter than it has a right to be.

# If you think

# you're all worn out

# even if the hours are miserable and empty

# each sorrow will heal with time

# That's why you should sing with me:

# the world won't collapse because of it

# Even if you find it grey sometimes

# one day it'll be colourful again

# Blue as the sky

# Even when all is upside down

# Even when your head spins

# It's not the end of the world The world is still needed

# It's not the end of the world The world is still needed

That man is your father, isn't he?

It wasn't hard to find out.

Sometimes he came to see you as customer, didn't he?

Stay.

Don't get up, I'm not a prude.

On the contrary, it lends you a somewhat morbid charm. You should cash in on that.

You know, I cash in on anything.

Down to a fart, if you allow me this trite analogy.

Take my advice!

I walk through this city ...

as if it weren't as chaotic, as desolate as the moon...

as if it were open, honest, straightforward.

And I laugh till my jaws ache.

M�ller!

Higher.

I'll present your father to you. Take it calmly.

May I introduce...

M�ller... Miss Brest Two very dear persons.

By the way, you were again terrific tonight.

Really? Thank you. On some nights one makes a special effort.

Quite right, quite right. And one knows why, doesn't one?

One knows why.

So it is written.

How is Madame your wife? Still up to date?

She's reading Lenin, same as ever. And Marx.

One could fare worse, intellectual speaking, as you know.

As I know.

Yes, one lives and learns.

And new experiences replace the old ones.

Enemies become friends when necessary.

Days fritter away, make way for others.

Those who know how to help themselves, help themselves. And so on.

Am I right?

As always.

Thank you.

You may go now.

And have a drink... on me.

Or two, your health permitting.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Good evening, Madame.

Good evening.

A charming fellow, isn't he?

One could almost forget his name is M�ller.

Instead of enjoying yourself, basking in the sun...

you withdraw into your shell and look for what you'll never find.

I'm scared, Lily.

And I'm trembling.

What's scaring you? What's making you tremble?

The dimension of things.

You open bank accounts, you buy houses,

you smash up cars without batting an eyelid.

A year ago we didn't have the money to pay the grocer.

Things are getting bigger and bigger and I'm losing my grip.

You don't love me anymore.

No, I don't love you anymore.

I loved you in the dirt, in the filth.

My feelings aren't strong enough for this luxury.

That's a paradox.

Perhaps it is.

But what's so special about you that they want to make you rich?

What have you got that they need?

You mustn't ask questions...

The answers might be terrible, Raoul.

I'll pack my bag and I'll go into the city

that'll swallow me up the way she has swallowed up so many others before.

- There have been rumours... - There always are.

They say you've changed. That you're not what you used to be.

And what do you think?

I don't think anything.

I'm in love.

Yes, with me.

It hurts me, but...

there's nothing I can do about it.

I'll give you money.

You shall not have tormented yourself in vain.

And ...

I needed you so much, Raoul.

All I had... were you and your blows...

that kept me awake.

Don't be sad, Lily.

All things come to an end. That's life.

Do you love that other man?

Love?

What do you want me to tell you?

Never the truth, that's right.

The truth hurts and

lies help you survive.

I'll never forget you, little one.

Your skinny arms, your frightened eyes.

But I can't help it.

Then there's this fear of things I can't get into my head.

There's this throbbing at my temples, this roaring of blood filling my ears.

You must leave ...

I understand that.

# Who knows the weight of days

# You have borne?

# Who knows the torments of Chico?

# Who knows the power of shadows

# In the blue tropical night?

# Who knows the favour and envy of the stars?

# Play for me once more, Habanero.

# Your song is dear to me

Bugs!

Swarms of little black bugs.

The city groans, she whines and trembles.

The bugs become a plague.

A plague until the city has learned...

to appreciate these bugs.

He's sucking us dry, the Jew.

He's drinking our blood and puts the blame on us.

Because he's the Jew and we're guilty.

I rack my brains, wear out my nerves,

in fact, I'm becoming extinct.

At night I wake up...

with death before my eyes, my throat feels constricted.

"Those are just visions", my reason tells me,

ancient myths from our forefathers.

I feel a sharp pain on my left side.

Is it the heart, I wonder... or the gall-bladder?

It's the Jew's fault for making us feel guilty, just by being there.

If he had stayed where he came from

or if they had gassed him, I'd be sleeping better today.

They forgot to gas him.

I'm not joking, this is what I really think.

And I'm rubbing my hands imagining how he's fighting for air,

in the gas chamber.

Once again I'm rubbing my hands, rubbing them and moaning:

"Luckily nobody knows my name is Rupelstiltskin."

He's always one step ahead...

leaving to others the leftovers.

The bad investments that turn out to be ...

unprofitable.

"Your time's up",

something inside me is whispering.

And for the 100th time I clutch my heart, and curse this system which makes me sick,

wounding me wherever it finds me.

Can one run away with real estate in one's luggage?

They tie you down with siren song, your real estate and your houses...

simply to torment and hurt you.

And there's one who laughs up his sleeve...

and has already bought you up before you even thought of selling.

And the banks and the powerful men of this city are on his side.

So you give up the fight...

but still cling to the property...

which makes you afraid.

The doctors lie to you...

they're all accomplices.

They keep you alive...

till you have suffered enough...

and till some gods, eating their fill at the sight of your suffering,

have finished masturbating.

They hate you...

and yet they need you for their perverted pleasures.

Those gods...

are nothing but the witches and fairies...

of children's nightmares...

invented to prepare us for this life...

which kills.

The Jew...

knows his business.

Fear he doesn't know.

Death cannot frighten him.

Him... who is not alive.

I know, my time is up.

I've paid your fee to your account.

I thank you with all my heart.

I'm gradually withdrawing from business.

The night has bewitched me with her sweet vices...

the way a big city invents them.

The metropolis.

Business is slipping from his grasp.

He's even started lying to himself.

He has learnt the role of the antagonist quite well, that dwarf.

And yet, he isn't fully convincing.

He's allowed to many liberties.

He fritters himself away.

Because he's so tiny.

But we can be certain he won't grow anymore.

M�ller...

at home wherever the city takes refuge in novelty and perversion.

Life doesn't leave one much choice.

The city demands her tribute.

Which some are willing to pay.

I know what I'm talking about.

# Come to the little pavilion

# To a secret rendezvous

# That little pavilion

# It will not betray one word

# Oh, no!

# Night enfolds us in her veils

# Take the gifts of love

# Come to the little pavilion

# For a rendezvous so sweet

# Oh, come!

Men don't kiss each other in here, Mister.

Our father which art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name

Thy kingdom come Thy will be done

On earth as in heaven

Forgive us our trespasses And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory

for ever and ever Amen

# Sailors are sailing home

# And their home is the ocean

# Sailor are sailing home

# and their home is the Reeperbahn

# But when they're with their girls

# The great longing seizes them fast

# For the sailors' true home

# Remains the wide ocean

Thus the city redeems herself with conciliatory gestures.

Everything levels out in the end, returns to order.

It's a game with the rules established in advance.

The winner's chosen before the game begins.

So what!

The unpredictable no longer takes anyone in.

We've miscalculated till the end of the century.

The one who knows the lyrics sings to the tune...

The silent actors frighten the children.

He builds houses with his own hands if he wants to get paid on Friday.

Not worth mentioning.

The ugly one despises the sweat on beauty's forehead.

Contempt guarantees money and sound sleep at night without a bad conscience.

It's your role, you've learnt it without respecting your cues.

Now you're babbling away the right lines in the wrong place and lose your effect.

I'm getting lost in culture...

and milieu.

I'm beginning to forget the value of money.

I used to have a goal.

It has now become relative.

Nevertheless, the show must go on.

I've set it in motion, now it must run its course.

But don't forget us, who are here for your sake, to serve you,

to carry out any worthwhile ideas.

Your fee, Madame, has been paid to your account.

You'll be satisfied. Goodnight.

# Through my soul

# Passes a fair melody

# Go, spring song

# Enter my soul, sweet sound

# Come to the house

# Surrounded by flowering violets

# If you see a rose

# Send her my love

How is he?

He'll live.

Does he want to?

Only he who can see into men's souls, knows.

Father?

Yes?

Why is the Jew using me?

To fight you?

He raises you in order to humiliate me.

The idea is simple.

Did you cause him so much harm?

He believes I'm responsible for his parents' death.

And?

Is it true?

I never bothered about the individuals that I killed.

I wasn't an individualist I'm a technocrat.

But I may well have been his parents' murderer.

And I wish I had been.

Therefore I am.

You bear the burden...

and you're glad.

Having murdered Jews is no burden when you have my convictions.

And the humiliations don't affect you?

They're not really meant for me.

But it makes one wonder.

What kind of a country is this that lets those things happen daily?

Times have changed.

Not really.

Basically everything has stayed the same, and is in order.

What more can you do but wait?

So I'm waiting for my rights to be vindicated.

You have plenty of time, father.

Centuries, Lily.

We won't die out and every pain inflicted on us makes us freer and stronger.

Fascism will be victorious.

Come back home. It's so quiet without you.

I'm coming.

She's your daughter. Do you still recognize her?

She's grown thin.

She was always thin. She's doing well. She's rich.

That makes it easier for me to hate her.

Why does my mother hate her child?

Because you're young and beautiful and have legs which carry you.

Hers fail her.

Basically, she hates herself.

You talk, talk and think you know it all.

And you invent images that have nothing to do with reality.

Yet I won't give in, I'll fight for our happiness.

We won't submit to conditions set by others to make us suffer.

The city no longer guarantees equal opportunities.

She never did.

But the discrepancies were never as shocking as they are nowadays.

Should I pass up opportunities that come my way?

Who on earth would do that?

Any of us.

Nobody would make the other women feel inferior the way you do.

I just take my chance where I find it.

Yes, but with what arrogance, what grace!

It's the grace that comes with contempt.

I no longer feel contempt for anyone.

I've even stopped despising men.

That's it. She no longer despises men.

Have you forgotten our rule to despise men who pay for love.

There can be no love when there's contempt.

Not true. Only when there's contempt does love have the right to exist.

Then the world would be full of love. Why isn't it?

Because there's always someone upsetting the balance,

thinking of himself and not of the whole.

What is this "whole"?

The power within me is my "whole".

The "whole" is illusory.

We're getting lost in argument, whereas our mind's been made up long ago.

I take nothing away from anybody.

I live for myself and I'm trying to find an answer within myself.

You're depriving us of our ability to be happy.

You're showing us limits which we don't want to see,

which we wouldn't even be aware of but for you.

You're working against your own sex.

You've become a brother to man, an enemy to your sister.

We no longer have anything in common.

You've joined the other side.

You're now on your own.

See how you manage.

# O cessate di piagarmi

# o lasciatemi morir

# o lasciatemi morir [Oh, let me die!]

This is not a life worth living, Lord!

You vomit and then You feel better. But us?

We hate and fight each other instead of being united.

And that's the way You wanted it, Lord.

Granting knowledge to man he is unable to master.

We're burning while You're warming Your arthritic fingers.

What did I have to endure?

All the pains and unquenchable desires of many.

What am I?

Your representative on earth?

A thing making life in the city worth living?

Only a thing, not a human being?

A thing into which people discharge,

infertile semen and pain and sorrow?

And the city turns us into living corpses,

into monsters with no chamber of horrors.

With B-levels to live in, with streets that poison us,

where we can still be poisoned.

With pains that make us afraid when things are going too well.

And each pleasure conceals deadly remorse.

Only the murderers escape,

for their life at least has a meaning.

They have done their best.

I see no further reason to endure what suffocates me...

without cutting off all air.

I kiss the dead...

I taste the stench of those long since dead.

Decay becomes my prayer book, loathing my desire.

And if I sang songs defying the abyss...

I'd be a ghoul devouring the brains of monkeys while they're alive.

And if I do not...

I shall be devoured myself.

We must be as people want us to be ...

or all is lost, reduced to nothing.

I... no longer want to live this life, Lord!

I shall give it away, sacrifice myself...

to the city...

which needs victims...

to look alive.

And above all, to save myself from death in life...

which makes me the same as those who have forgotten what life is.

Those who have become dulled,

and dumb, who think themselves happy...

and forget that they really don't exist at all.

Those who lack teeth to survive in the jungle.

I abdicate, Lord...

I'm clearing out.

I'll find someone to make me happy.

You're very lonely.

That's not it.

But you are.

Yes, I'm lonely.

You see, we all are.

Kill me!

I have no reason to kill.

There are plenty of reasons.

Maybe. But I'm a musician.

That's strenuous enough.

That's all.

Please stay.

I'm in a hurry.

We all are.

What do you want?

To die.

For such a luxury my time's too valuable.

A good day.

You're obsessed with yourself.

Yearning for death is so much easier than mastering life.

You won't stop me.

Well, who could?

I love your husband.

That's your business.

Don't you despise us?

I haven't had the strength to despise anyone for quite some time.

You've been good for me.

I felt you needed me. Here I am.

I failed.

Don't say a word.

I renounce my role.

It doesn't satisfy me.

Then the game's over.

You've already fulfilled your purpose anyway.

I know that.

I have forgiven you.

You have no right to forgive me.

I know my rights.

I have no right to forgive, no right to demand.

I have no rights at all.

That is my chance, powerlessness.

It's my chance.

We've never listened to music together.

Do you remember?

I know my way around.

Music might have deluded us.

And who needs to be deluded?

All of us.

We need songs that sing of love.

You are desperate.

But that despair isn't worth anything.

You can't deal with that sort of despair.

I'm not in it for a deal.

If you're trying to hurt me, you won't succeed.

You know best.

I could forgive you if I wanted to.

Yes... but

I don't need your forgiveness.

You can't help me.

Are you so sure?

No.

Maybe you're right, maybe

I need you just once more.

Anything definite in mind?

I want to die.

It's the best way out.

I agree.

But I haven't the strength to do it.

How could you? Do you have any plans?

No, I'm on my own and

how could this brain of mine still make plans?

That's true! Well?

Will you do it for me?

You might even get some satisfaction from it ... besides...

it won't take you long.

And for what reason am I supposed to kill you?

That I know too much, that I might talk.

But that won't do for you.

No, that won't do for me.

I'll do it for you.

Thank you.

I am tired and now I go to rest.

We both know that it's not much.

But it's the only thing.

It's a practical longing.

And whose longing is satisfied anyway?

Don't keep me waiting.

Thank God, he's killed her.

He's disqualified himself.

It's clear, he loved her.

He who loves loses all his rights.

In any case she lived longer than expected.

That's right.

Thus the city devours her children.

Wherever she finds them. That's right.

Any evidence?

Plenty... But is it worthwhile?

Exactly.

Let's close the case.

That's it.

Too bad.

More or less, right?

More or less, that's true.

Whom do you feel bad about? The victim?

Surely not!

You see how fast people come to an agreement.

They do, you're right.

This case will peter out.

That's where it belongs. Am I right?

Of course, my dear, you're right.

It's my duty.

Everyone has to decide that for himself.

That's how it is.

And I've decided.

Then it must be.

Yes.

I know the murderer.

What murderer?

Are we after a murderer?

Not that I know. We're not after any murderer.

You may not be looking for one.

But you'll find him, whether you like it or not.

Why don't you leave the dead in peace?

Do they deserve to be made such a fuss about?

So that their ears will ring even in hell?

This is about the living...

and in this case about me.

Namely:

I'm taking over the business.

If anybody will listen...

I'll soon find people who'll listen to me.

He sounds determined, doesn't he?

Yes, rather determined.

Strange, strange!

That there's still someone who doesn't know the laws of the city yet.

What are we to do?

It's very annoying.

The rich Jew killed her.

You'll arrest him...

and put him behind bars.

It's so sad.

Why does someone give an answer when we haven't questioned him?

But man's will is his divine right.

Well.

It's too bad.

The things one has to do sometimes.

They might even spoil your day.

Chief of Police speaking.

A fellow just jumped out of the window. Do have a look, will you?

I was lucky. Somebody almost fell on top of me.

Well, the guy was fed up with life.

Too bad!

He was one of the keener types.

He was too keen. That's what.

He knew things that weren't his business.

I can imagine.

What do these cities do to us?

By the way, this monstrous dwarf can testify where I was

when the murder happened.

A nasty business!

We were in the West...

At any relevant time we were in the West, on business.

That's fine, my boy. He's a good little kid.

You've no choice when you're small. You have to be a good boy.

Right?

Quite right.

You see, this is the murderer we need...

to put things right.

That's alright, my boy. We'll come to an understanding.

Engl. translation: ventura12 & Denis Calandra corrections and resynch: serdar202@KG2017/2022