All language subtitles for baal

As his mothers womb
yet held the growing Baal

The sky above
was Vast and still and pale

Young and bare
and immensely wondrous

Just how Baal loved it
when Baal came to us

Through Baal S lust and pain
the sky remained there

Even when Baal slumbered
blissfully unaware

At night a Violet sky, a drunken Baal

Baal S dawn is holy,
the sky apricot pale

Amid the shameful swarm of sinners

Baal lay naked
and wallowed unconcerned

Just the sky, oh neVer—ending sky

Majestically covered his nakedness

At the bloated Vultures
Baal squints up

They circle above
to see when Baal will die

Sometimes Baal plays dead,
Vultures land to eat

Baal dines in silence
on Vulture meat

Beneath gloomy stars
in this Vale of tears

Baal grazes broad fields
and smacks his lips

Once the fields are bare
Baal skips with a song

Into the eternal woods
to get some sleep

And when the dark womb
drags Baal down inside

What is the world to Baal then?
Baal is full

Baal has so much sky in his eye

That when he dies
he still will have enough

When the dark, earthy womb
held the rotting Baal

The sky above was yet
Vast and still and pale

Young and bare and utterly sublime

Just how Baal loved it
in Baal 3 time

You must publish your poetry.

Herr Mech is a regular Maecenas_
You can leave that garret_

I have entire forests of cinnamon trees
floating down BraziI’s rivers,

but I'll publish your poetry too.

— You live in a garret?
— 64 Sewer Street.

I’m not fat enough for poetry.

I'll write a piece on you.
You have manuscripts?

I have the backing of the press.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I admit I was shocked

to find a man like him
in such modest circumstances.

As you know,
I discovered our dear poet

working as a simple clerk
in my office.

I won't hesitate to say
that it’s a disgrace for our city

that such luminaries should be
working for a daily wage.

Congratulations, Herr Mech_

Your salon will be known

as the cradle
of this genius’s worldwide fame.

To your health, Herr Baal.

How do you achieve such naiveté?
It’s positively Homeric.

I consider Homer to be one
or several literate compilers

who took delight
in the na'I'veté of folk epics.

— More eel, please.
— But your asset is great immodesty_

Baal sings his lyrics to truckers...

in a tavern by the river.

More champagne.

You must travel. The Abyssinian
highlands would suit you.

Then those highlands
should come to me.

Why? A person with your zest
for life needs no reality.

Your poems moved me deeply.

Truckers pay for what they like.

I'll publish your poetry and let
my cinnamon trees float away, or both.

You shouldn’t drink so much.

I have no shirts.

I could use some white shirts.

You’re not interested
in being published?

But they have to be soft.
Ladies’ blouses, perhaps.

You write wonderful poems,
Herr Baal.

They show such sensitivity.

Don’t drink so much, Herr Baal.

Floating cinnamon trees?
Butchered forests, huh?

I didn’t mean to —

Publication doesn’t seem
to interest you.

— You trade in animals too.
— You object?

— What’s my poetry to you?
— I meant to do you a favor.

Will you peel me an apple, Emilie?

He’s scared of being sucked dry.

How might I serve you?

Do you always wear
wide sleeves, Emilie?

You must stop drinking that wine.

How about a bath?
Shall I have a bed made up?

Haven’t you forgotten something?
— Go easy on the alcohol.

The shirts are floating away.
The poetry’s already floated off.

Why monopolies?
Go to bed, Mech_

I like all God’s creatures,

but one can’t do business
with this animal.

Come, Emilie.
Come, gentlemen.

There are limits even for genius.

Your poetry has a vicious streak.

What’s the gentIeman’s name? PiIIer!
Send me some old newspapers.

You mean nothing to me.
You mean nothing to literature.

Is there something else
you want from him, Frau Mech?

I don’t know.
Someone should look after him.

— You should be ashamed!
— You should be ashamed.

I can’t help it
if I’m pickled from your wine.

Must I swallow your twaddle
just so I can fill my belly?

When you lie sprawled
in the grass at night,

you feel in your bones that
the Earth is round and we’re flying...

and that there are animals
on this star eating up its plants.

It’s one of the smaller stars.

— You know about astronomy?
— No.

My sweetheart is
the most innocent woman alive,

but once, in a dream,
I saw her ravished by a juniper tree.

Her pale body
was stretched out on the juniper,

its gnarled branches
embracing her.

I haven’t been able to sleep since.

— Have you ever seen her pale body?
— No, she’s innocent. Even her knees.

There are degrees of innocence,
don’t you think?

Still, when I hold her
for a moment at night,

she trembles like a leaf.

I don’t dare. She’s only 17.

— Did she enjoy love in your dream?
— Yes.

Love is like biting into an orange
so the juice squirts through your teeth.

lt’s like letting
your bare arm float in a pond

with weeds between your fingers.

Limbs as loose as plants in the wind.

The force of the collision
is like flying into a gale.

Her body tumbles over you
like cool pebbles.

But enough of this aria.

So you think I should do it?

I think you should steer clear,
Johannes.

Orge said to me...

the dearest place for him on Earth

is not the grass
by his parents ’ graves.

its not a confessional box
nor a whore 3 bed,

nor a woman 3 lap,
all soft, white, warm, and fat.

Orge said to me
the dearest place on Earth

for him was always the Iatrine_

A place where one is content

with stars above and dung below.

A place of humility
where you realize

that you’re just a man
who can’t hold on to anything.

There you realize
what you are indeed —

just a guy sitting
on a Iatrine to feed.

B ravo I

He made that up all by himself.

You’re really something, Herr Baal.

— Wish I had brains like that.
— Don’t get carried away.

Brains come with a backside
and all the rest. Cheers!

This is Johanna.

Hello.

Johannes read me your poems.

— How old are you?
— Seventeen in June.

I’m jealous.
Johannes raves about you.

You’re in love with your Johannes.

It’s spring.
I’m waiting for Emilie.

Loving is better than mere pleasure.

You may touch the hearts of men,
but how do you succeed with women?

That can be learned.

Here she comes.

He threw me out of his white pad,

but his wife ran after me.
Now I can’t get rid of her.

Why did you have me come here?

With all these Iowlifesl
Is this how your taste runs?

Luise! A gin for the lady.

— You mean to make a fool of me?
— No. Drink.

We’re all human.

— You’re not!
— What do you know?

Damn but you’re soft today,
like a plum.

— You’re so vulgar!
— Shout it out, darling.

Maybe we should go down
to the river, Johannes.

Nothing doing. Stay here.

The sky is violet,
especially when you’re drunk.

Whereas beds are white... at first.

That’s where love is,
between heaven and earth.

Why are you such cowards?

You’ve drunk too much again.
Now you’re babbling.

And with that damnable,
wonderful babble...

he lures you to his Sty.

The sky is sometimes yellow too,

with birds of prey in it.

You must all get drunk!

Who’s kicking my shin?
Is that you, Luise?

Ah, it was you, Emilie.

Well, no matter. Drink up.

I don’t know
what’s wrong with you today.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
— Just realizing that now?

Might as well stay now.

You shouldn’t do this, Herr Baal.

You have a good heart, Johanna.
You won't betray your man, eh?

Want to come with us?
We’ll leave together.

I feel so ashamed now.

I understand. It doesn’t matter.

Don’t look at me like that.

You’re still so young.

You don’t know anything yet.
— What a farce! “Sisters in Hades.”

He’s been drinking.
He’II regret it tomorrow.

Cheers, Emmi.

At least drink, if you can’t do
anything else. Drink!

That's it.

That’II light a fire in you.

If you only knew.
He’s always like this.

And I love him.

— Orgauer!
— What do you want?

A woman’s being mistreated here
and wants love.

Give her a kiss.

Go on!

Yes, do.

You’re a bastard, Herr Baal.

Are you cold, Emmi?

You love me?

He’s shy, Emmi. You kiss him.

If you make me look bad now,
it’s all over.

One...

two...

She deserves a spanking!

You should be ashamed!

Why are your knees shaking,
Johanna?

Did you feel that?
Did it get under your skin?

That was a circus!

You have to lure the beast
out into the sun!

My bill!

Out into the daylight with love.

Someone exposed
their white bum here today.

Good—bye, Herr Circus!

Baal, stop it.

Come with me, brother,
to the hard, dusty roads,

where the evening air turns violet
and the dive bars are full of drunks.

The women you’ve stuffed
fall into black rivers.

To the cathedrals
with little white women.

You’II say, “May one breathe here?”

To the cowsheds
where one sleeps among beasts.

They’re gloomy,
full of the mooing of cows.

To the forests
where axes ring out above

and one forgets the light of the sky.

God has forgotten you.

You still remember how the sky looks?

Luise, an anchor!

Don’t let me go with him!
Help me!

Come, brother.
Dance and music and drinking.

The rain soaking you...

the sun scorching you...

darkness...

and light.

— Dear God!
— Remember your art and be strong.

Shame on you!
— Come, brother Baal.

Like two white doves
we’ll fly blissfully into the blue.

Rivers in the light of dawn,
windswept graveyards,

the smell of endless fields
before they’re mown_

— Be strong, Herr Baal.
— Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.

Not yet. There’s another way.
They won't come along, brother.

Then go to hell with your fat heart.

— Can't you postpone it?
— No. You coming or not?

You won this time, Herr Baal.

You can relax now, Emmi.

It’s over now.

What have I done?

I’m wicked.
— You’d better wash.

I still don’t know how it happened.

lt’s all Johannes’s fault.

He brought you here and then split

when he realized
why your knees were shaking.

— What if he came back?
— Here comes the literary bit.

Dawn on Mount Ararat...

— Should I get up?
— ___after the flood.

Stay where you are.

Won’t you open the window?

I love that smell.

How about another helping?
What’s gone is gone.

You can be so vile.

White and cleansed by the flood,

Baal lets his thoughts soar
like doves over the dark waters.

Where’s my blouse?

I can’t —
— Here. What can’t you do, my love?

Go home.

She’s a wild little thing.

I feel every bone in my body.

Give me a kiss.

Say something.

Do you still love me?

Say it.

Can't you say it?

I’m fed up to the teeth!

Then what was last night about...

and just now?

Did you wash up?

No practical sense at all.
Did you get nothing out of it?

Go home.

Tell Johannes
I took you home yesterday

and that I puke bile on him.

It rained.

Johannes...

If a woman gives all, so says Baal

Let her go, for she has no more

Men, fear not women
They are trivial

But children frighten even Baal

Drinking makes the evening sky

very dark, sometimes violet.

Then your body in a shirt to rip...

You said we should come by again.

___in a broad white bed.

Here we are, Herr Baal.

Now the doves come fluttering in pairs.
Get undressed!

Mother heard us
on the stairs last week.

It was already dusk.

— One day I'll be stuck with you.
— I’d rather drown myself.

— I feel ashamed.
— It’s not the first time...

— It’s so light. It’s high noon.
— ___nor the second.

— You undress too.
— I will.

When you’re ready,
come over here.

It will be dark, all right.

— You go first today.
— I went first last time.

— No, I did.
— You’II both come together.

We’re ready.

It’s so bright in here.
— Is it warm outside?

— It’s only April.
— But the sun’s warm today.

Did you enjoy it last time?

A girl drowned herself in the river.
Johanna Reiher_

In the Laach_ I wouldn’t go near it.
The current’s too strong.

Drowned herself?
Anyone know why?

There are rumors going around.

— She stayed out all night.
— She didn’t go home the next day?

No. They still haven’t
found her body.

Still floating...

— What’s wrong, sister?
— Probably just a chill.

I’m too lazy today. Go home.

You can’t do that to her, Herr Baal.

— Someone’s knocking.
— It’s Mother.

Don’t open it!

I’m scared.

Here’s your blouse.

Don’t open yet.
Bolt the door, for God’s sake.

Well, well.

I thought as much.

Two at a time now.

Aren’t you ashamed?
Two in his fishpond at once?

From dawn till dusk till dawn again,
his bed never gets cold.

Well, now I'll have my say.

My attic isn’t a brothel.

Who nailed
these tree corpses to the wall?

The pale ivory air
around the tree corpses.

It’s Corpus Christi!
— The bells ring as the trees die.

The bells lift my spirits.

Don’t the trees depress you?

Ha! Tree cadavers!

Women’s bodies are no better.

What do women’s bodies
have to do with processions?

They’re both obscene.

You don’t love anyone.

I love the white body of Christ.

I put poems to paper,

but these days
they get hung up in Iavatories_

To serve my lord Jesus.

I see the white body of Jesus.

Jesus loved sinners.
— Like me.

Know the story
about Jesus and the dead dog?

Everyone said, “It stinks!
Call the police! It’s unbearabIe!”

But he said,
“It has beautiful white teeth.”

Maybe I'll become Catholic.

He didn't.

But nailing women’s bodies
to the wall — I wouldn’t do that.

Nail them to the wall?

They never floated down the river.
They were slaughtered.

For the white body of Jesus.

You have too much religion
or too much gin in you.

So you won't stand up
for your ideals

or join the procession?

You love plants
and do nothing for them!

I’m going down to the river to wash.

I don’t care about corpses.

I have gin in my blood.

I can’t stand
these damned dead trees!

With lots of gin inside you...

maybe you could bear it.

For four days now I’ve been covering
this paper with red summer...

pale, wild, and voracious...

and wrestling with the gin bottle.

There have been defeats...

but the bodies are starting
to fall back to the walls

and flee into the Egyptian darkness.

I nail them to the walls,
but I have to stop drinking.

Gin is my rod and my staff...

but now my hands are shaking...

as if the bodies
were still inside them.

I’m a lover without a beloved.

I’m succumbing.

I have to move out,
but first I'll get myself a woman.

Moving out alone is sad.

Anyone with a face like a woman.

This is my studio.

What are you doing here?

— I just wanted —
— You wanted, did you?

There you stand,
a tombstone for my late Johanna.

Johanna’s corpse
from another world.

Get out right now.

You’ve got some nerve!

It’s spring anyway-

What did that young man do to you?

Let me go.

Turn right at the first floor.

They’II find me.

A man followed us
when you suddenly approached me.

No one will find you here.

Out there you said
you were a photographer.

That’s what I said out there.

Then I’m going. I was on my way
to the theater to play Judith.

You can go any time.

You accosted me on the street.

It’s spring, right?

I must have something white...

in this damned hole.

A cloud.

A thousand people are waiting.
They’II fire me if I don’t show.

I’m not stopping YOU-

I don’t know you.

What do you want with me?
— If you have to ask, you can leave.

I don’t know why I’m still here.

I can tell you.

Should I stay?

You have to play Judith.

— I feel so weak.
— I know why.

It’s April.

It’s getting dark,
and you smell me.

That’s how it is with animals.

Now you belong to the wind,
white cloud.

Let me go.

My name is Baal.

Let me go.

You must comfort me.

The winter left me weak.

But you look like a woman.

You’re so ugly.

So ugly that it’s frightening.

But then...

that doesn’t matter.

— Are your knees steady?
— Do you even know my name?

It’s Sophie Barger_

You have to forget that.

— No!
— How old are you?

— Twenty—four in June.
— How many men have you had?

So you’ve got that over with.
Come!

In this wooden attic
cascades of bodies have Iain,

but now I want a face.

At night we’ll go out
and lie beneath the bushes.

You’re a woman.
I’ve become unclean.

You must love me for a while.

That’s how you are.
I’m fond of you.

The sky’s above us now,
and we’re all alone.

— But you must lie still.
— Like a child.

Do you have family?
— My mother.

Is she old?

She’s 70.

Then she’s accustomed to evil.

What if I’m swallowed up
by the earth?

Or dragged into a cave, never to return?
— Never?

The air in here is like milk.

The river willows are wet
and disheveled from rain.

You must have pale thighs.

— They knocked the lamp over again.
— Only pigs ever come here.

There’s a postcard for you.

MarseiIIe___

Ekart wants me to come
to the Black Forest.

Where’s my ration of gin?

Mjurk says no more gin
before the show. Sorry.

Clear out, Lupu_

I must have my gin, Mjurk,
or there’s no poetry.

Don’t drink so much.
You won't be able to sing.

What else do I sing for?

Apart from the stripper,
you’re the star of the show.

I discovered you myself.

Never was such a tender soul
buried in such a hunk of fat.

It’s the hunk of fat that brings
success, not the poetry.

Your gin habit is ruining me.

I’m tired of haggling every night
for the gin I’m owed by contract.

The police are on my side.

You’re on.

I’m done for the night.

You don’t go onstage
half naked here.

He’s only working for the woman
he lives with. He’s a genius.

My heart is pure, and I am small,
and now I must amuse you all.

He’s telling them.
Now he’s showing them.

He’s throwing it in their faces.

Thank God someone’s finally
calling a spade a spade.

They want thrills,
but no one admits it.

The wind blows through the rooms,
and the baby eats blue prunes.

Its white body, soft like fleece,
helps it pass the time in peace.

I'll have your hide.

You’II sing as stated in your contract,

or I'll call the police.

Where are you going?

Get out here!

Is your star attraction in the can?

I forbid you to lock yourself in!

Not while I’m paying you!

I have it in writing!

The windows open.
The vulture has flown.

No gin, no poetry.
— I’m calling the police.

The rain has stopped.
The grass must still be wet.

But the leaves around us
didn’t let the water through.

The roots are still dry.

Why can’t a man sleep with a plant?

Listen.

The wind whooshing
through the dark, wet foliage.

Hear the rain dripping
through the leaves?

I feel a drop on my neck.

Leave me alone, Baal.

Love rips off a man’s clothes
and buries him naked in leaves

once he’s seen the sky.

I’d like to hide inside you,
because I’m naked.

I’m drunk and you’re staggering.

The sky’s black, we swing with love
in our bellies, and the sky’s black.

I love you.

My mother's weeping
over my dead body.

She thinks I’ve drowned myself.

How many weeks has it been?

It wasn't even May yet.

Maybe three weeks.

“Maybe three weeks,”
said the beloved amid the tree roots,

when it had been 30 years
and she was half rotted.

It’s good to lie here like plunder...

with the sky up above...

and never be alone again.

I'll take your dress off again.

You know we’re out of money?

It was an oak.

He didn’t die at once.

He suffered.

Just this morning he said
the weather was getting better.

This is how he liked it:
green with a touch of rain.

He was a good fellow, Teddy was.

He had a little shop somewhere
back in his prime.

BaaI’s not walking straight, boys.

Leave him alone.
The eIephant’s hammered.

What are you doing with Teddy,
elephant?

He has his peace,
and we have our turmoil.

Both are good.

The sky is black.
The trees are trembling.

Somewhere clouds are billowing.
That’s the picture.

We can eat.
After we sleep, we wake up.

Not him. Us.

It’s doubly good.

— What’s the sky like?
— The sky is black.

He’s weak in the head.
It always the wrong people who get it.

That’s marvelous, my friend.
You’re right.

CouIdn’t happen to Baal. He’s never
around when work’s going on.

But Teddy was a hard worker.

Teddy was generous.
Teddy was good—natured_

One thing remains: Teddy was.

I wonder where he is now.

He’s right here.
He doesn’t stink yet.

Has anyone made a speech?
Isn't that the thing to do?

— I did.
— When?

Earlier, before you guys
started prattIing_

It started, “Teddy has his peace.”

You only notice things
when they’re over.

Moron.

— Let’s get his gin.
— Teddy’s gin at Teddy’s wake.

Cheap and fitting.

Your body wasn't so had,
my poor Teddy.

Even now it’s not.

Just a bit damaged on one side.

And your legs.

It’d have been
no more women for you.

You can’t put something like that
on top of a woman.

But all in all...

there was more life
to be lived in that body

if you’d put your mind to it,
my boy.

But you were
too damned noble of soul.

The building was defective,

and rats abandon a sinking ship.

Elephant, you’re in trouble now.

Where’s the brandy
from under Teddy’s bed?

Where were you
when we were helping him?

— Where were you, you swine?
— He wasn't even dead yet.

You have no proof, my friends.

Where’s the brandy?
Did it evaporate?

This is serious.

Stand up!

Walk four paces
and then tell us you’re not drunk.

You’re rotten through and through,
you swine!

A man died in the eternal woods
as a storm roared all around him

Died like a beast in talons of roots,
looking up at the treetops

Where above the woods
the storm raged unabated

People stood all around
and tried to calm him

“We'll carry you home, friend”

But he kicked and spat and said,
" Yeah ? Where ?”

For he had no home or land

"How many teeth have you left?
And hows the rest of you?

Try to die quietly
with a bit less fuss

We already ate
your horse last night

Why this t0—do about going to hell?”

And the woods resounded
around him and them

They watched as he clung to a tree
and heard him shriek

It horrified them
and their clenched fists trembled

For he was a man like them

“You're foul and useless,
a mangy beast

Just pus and grime, you ragged heap

You're breathing up our air
in your greed, ” they said

And he, the festering sore, said...

‘'I want to live and take in your sun

And ride in the light like you”

Yes, the sheer weight of lifes excess

Pressed his rotting carcass
into the earth

At dawn he fell down dead
in the dark grass

Disgusted, they buried him
cold with hate

In the deepest undergrowth

If the winter doesn’t end soon,
I give up.

— You still haven’t chopped your wood.
— I’m hungry!

— You should have helped the woodcutters_
— It was too cold.

I can’t work with those people.

— Then you must be calm.
— Busy with your mass, I suppose?

Forget my mass.
Think of your woman.

She runs after us like a madwoman,
a millstone around my neck.

— You’re sinking deeper and deeper.
— I’m too heavy.

— I suppose you don’t plan on croaking_
— I'll fight it to the end.

I want to live even without skin.
I'll withdraw into my toes.

I'll swallow death and know nothing.

You’ve gotten fat
while we’ve been lying here.

My shirt has gotten bigger.
The dirtier, the bigger.

It could hold another person,
but no one fat.

Why are you just sitting around,
you bag of bones?

I have a kind of sky in my skull,

very green and vast.

Thoughts drift through
like wispy clouds

in no particular direction.

It's the D_T_’s_
They get you in the end.

When the D_T_’s come on,
I feel it in my face.

There’s room on your face
for the wind. It’s concave.

I’m getting
more and more mathematical.

No one knows your history.
Why do you never talk about yourself?

I'll never have a history.

Who’s that outside?
— You have good ears.

— You’re hiding something inside.
— Is that you, Sophie?

Now what do you want?

Can I come in now, Baal?

My knees are giving out.
Why are you running?

Because you’re hanging
around my neck like a miIIstone_

Why treat her like this?
You got her pregnant.

— I wanted it.
— And now I’m stuck with her.

You’re being a beast.
Sit down.

Let him go.

If you throw her in the street,
I’m staying with her.

She won't stay with you.

But you’d leave me for her.
Just like you.

You took my place in bed twice.

You took my women
even though I loved them.

Because you loved them.

Twice I defiled corpses
to keep you pure. I need that.

God knows I took no pleasure in it.

And still you love this obvious brute.

I can’t help it, Ekart

I love his corpse.

I love his fists.

I can’t help it.

Don’t tell me what you two did
while I was doing time.

We stood outside the white prison wall
and looked up at your window.

— You were together!
— Beat me for it.

— You threw her at me!
— I didn’t love you then.

— I don’t have your thick skin.
— I love you for that.

At least keep your mouth shut
about it when she’s around.

Tell her to get lost.
She’s turning into a bitch.

She washes her dirty laundry
in your tears.

Can't you see
how she runs naked between us?

I have the patience of a lamb,
but I can’t change what I am.

Go home to your mother.

— I can’t_
— She can’t, Ekart

Beat me if you like.

I won't tell you to slow down again.
I didn’t mean it.

Let me come as long as I can walk.
Then I'll lie down in the bushes.

Don’t drive me off.

Throw your fat body in the river.

You wanted me to spit you out.
— You’d leave me lying here?

You’re not even sure.
You’re a child to talk like that.

I’m sick to death of you!

Not tonight!

I’m scared to be alone.

I’m afraid of the dark.

No one will bother you
in your condition.

CouIdn’t you two stay
with me tonight?

Go to the bargemen_
It’s midsummer night. They’ll be drunk.

Just 15 minutes.

Come on, Ekart

— Where am I to go?
— To the theater.

Or to heaven.

— With my child?
— Bury it!

I pray you never have cause
to remember you said that

under the beautiful sky
that you love.

I pray with all my heart.

I'll stay with you
and take you to your mother's

if you say
you’II stop loving that animal.

She loves me.

I love that animal.

Are you still here, you brute?

You’re pressed against me.
Can you smell me?

I’ve got you. There’s more
than the closeness of women.

You can see stars
above the bushes, Ekart

I can’t strike this animal.

It’s getting dark.
We need a place for the night.

In the woods
there are hollows with no wind.

Come.
I'll tell you about the animals.

Through dive, cathedral, and hospital

Baal wanders coolly on
and learns to let go

Baal may be weary, my boys,
but he doesn '2‘ fall far

Baal drags his sky
with him down below

The water’s warm.
We lie in the sand like crabs...

with the bushes
and the white clouds in the sky.

Ekart, I love you.

I’m too comfortable here.

Did you see the clouds earlier?

Yes, they’re shameless.

A woman passed by earlier.

I don’t care for women anymore.

Since the sky
turned green and pregnant...

it’s been July air,
wind, shirt untucked_

My pants are chafing my bare thighs.

My skuII’s inflated by the wind,

and the smell of the fields
hangs in the hair of my armpits.

The air trembles
as if drunk on brandy.

Why run from the plum trees
like an elephant?

Put your paw on my skull.

It swells with every heartbeat,
then collapses again like a balloon.

Feel it?
You don’t understand my soul!

Why don’t we lie in the water?

My soul is the moaning
of cornfields bending in the wind...

and the gleam in the eyes of two insects
about to devour each other.

— If only I’d eaten, you visionary.
— What am I?

A mad July boy
with immortal innards,

a dumpling that will leave
grease stains on the sky.

Mere words.
But it doesn’t matter.

Ekart.

Wake up. I’ve got it.

Got what?

Talking in your sleep again?

Listen to this.

“When she drowned and floated down
from stream to great rivers,

the opal sky shone wondrously
as if to appease her corpse.

Seaweed and algae clung to her,
slowly adding to her weight.

The fish swam coolly
between her legs.

Flora and fauna
hampered her final voyage.

At dusk the sky turned
dark as smoke,

and the stars held the light
suspended in the night sky.

But at dawn it grew light,
so she too still had both day and night.

When her pale body
had decayed in the water,

God bit by bit forgot her.

First her face, then her hands,
then last of all her hair.

Then she became more carrion
among the other Carrion.”

Is her ghost haunting you already?

It’s not as wicked as you.

But my sleep is gone now, and the wind
pipes again through the willows.

All that’s left once again
is the white breast of philosophy,

darkness and wetness
right up to our blessed end,

and even for old women
just their second sight.

In this wind
you don’t need liquor to get drunk.

I see the world in a mellow light.

It’s the excrement of the Lord God.

God who distinguished himself
once and for all

by joining urethra and sex organ?

lt’s all so beautiful.

The willows are like rotten tooth stumps
in the black mouth of the sky.

I'll start on my mass soon.

Is the quartet finished?

Where would I have found the time?

It’s that pale redhead

that you drag around.

She brings her soft, white body
to the willows at noon.

The branches droop like hair,
and we fuck like squirrels.

Is she better—Iooking than me?

I'll just satisfy her, the white dove.

There’ll be nothing but skin left
when he gets here.

I’m sick of his love affairs.

Be still, my soul.

Where’s your friend?

Writing a mass in E—fIat minor.

Tell him I came by.

He’s so transparent he’s defiled himself.
He’s relapsing into zoology.

Sit down.

I prefer to stand.

He’s been eating
too many eggs recently.

— I love him.
— What do I care?

Don’t touch me.
You’re too dirty.

This is your neck.

You know how they kill doves?

Or wild ducks in the woods?

Jesus Christ, leave me alone!

With your weak knees?
You’re already falling over.

You want to be laid in the willows.

A man’s a man.
Most are alike in this regard.

Please!

Leave me alone!

You shameless quail!

Come on.
A rescue by a desperate man.

We need a drink.
Got any money?

No. Look at the maple in the wind.

It’s trembling.

Where’s the girl
you dragged around the bars?

Turn into a fish and look for her.

You eat too much.
You’II burst.

I’d like to hear the pop.

You ever look in the water
when it’s deep and black, with no fish?

Watch you don’t fall in.
You’re so heavy.

I'll watch out for someone else.
I wrote a song. Want to hear it?

- You haven’t had a woman in ages.
— So?

Just thinking. Say no.

— Is this the hospital tavern?
— Yes.

There are no free beds, and I’m ill.
— We brought champagne.

Come in!

Anyone who knows champagne
will fit in here.

There are some
mighty fine people here today.

I know where you got this,
but I won't give you away.

Come, Ekart Got any glasses?

Cups, my good sir.

I need a cup of my own.

Are you allowed to have champagne?

What are you sick with?

PIeurisy_ It’s nothing.

A little mucous congestion.

Nothing serious.

And you?

Stomach ulcer. Harmless.

— I trust you have some affliction too?
— I’m insane.

Cheers.
Now we’ve been introduced.

I’m healthy.

I knew a man once
who thought he was healthy.

He came from the forest and returned
there one day to ponder something.

He found the forest very strange,
completely unfamiliar.

One evening at dusk,
when he no longer felt so alone,

he walked in the great stillness
among the trees

and stopped beneath one of them.

It was the monkey in him.

Yes, perhaps.

He leaned against the tree
and felt the life in it, or thought he did.

“You’re taller than me,
and you stand firm,

and you know the depths
of the earth that holds you up.

I can move and run,

but I don’t reach deep down,
and nothing holds me up_”

— What did the tree say?
— The wind blew.

A shudder ran through the tree,
which the man felt.

He threw himself to the ground,
clutched the wild, hard roots,

and wept bitterly.

Did he regain his health?

No, but death came more easily.

I don’t understand.

No one understands anything,
but some things you just feel.

Stories you understand
were just told badly.

You believe in God?

I’ve always believed in myself,
but one can turn atheist.

Now I’m feeling happy.

God!

Champagne! Love!

Wind and rain!

Let me go! Your breath stinks!

As if you don’t have syphilis!

Watch it!
I’m slowly getting drunk.

He used to be better—Iooking_
That’s how he got her.

And your intellectual superiority?
Your spiritual supremacy?

She wasn't like that before.
She was entirely unspoiled.

— And what did you do?
— I felt ashamed.

Listen! The wind.

It’s asking God for peace.

Lullaby baby, safe from the storm

Here we are sheltered
and drunk and warm

That’s past now, Ekart

Yes, and it was beautiful.

— What?
— He’s forgotten.

“Past” — what a strange word.

The best of all is nothingness_

Here comes Gougou’s aria!

The sack of maggots sings!

It’s like shimmering air
one sunny summer evening.

But it’s not shimmering.
There’s nothing at all.

You simply stop.

Wind blows, you don’t get cold.
Rain falls, you don’t get wet.

Jokes are told, you don’t laugh.
You rot.

No need to wait. General strike.

That’s the paradise of hell.

Yes, it is paradise.

No wish is unfulfilled.
There are no more wishes.

All habits are abandoned, even wishing.

That’s how you become free.
— What happens in the end?

Nothing at all.

There is no end.
Nothingness lasts forever.

Come, Ekartl
We’ve fallen in with murderers.

The vermin multiply, decay is upon us.
The maggots sing and show off!

This again.
Is it just from the drinking?

My guts are hanging out.
It’s a mud bath.

Sit down.

Get drunk and warm yourself.

Your aria always tickles me so...

little Gougou_

Itsy—bitsy Maja_

I have a soul too.

You’ve corrupted my soul.
You corrupt everything.

And I'll start on my mass.

I love you.

Cheers.

I’m not going any further with you.

Hands off, you swine.

— What’s it to you?
— Hold your tongue, you wretch_

Madman! You’re raving.

lt’s all a swindle! He’s not sick.

lt’s all a swindle.

And you’ve got cancer.

I’ve got cancer?

I didn’t say anything.

Leave her alone.

— Why is it crying?
— What do you want?

Why are you crying?

Never seen it before?
Or do you always cry?

Your poor little feet.

Stop that!

You Pig!

He’s peeking under the baby’s shirt!

You swine.

You don’t know anymore
what’s human.

Come, Ekart
We’II wash ourselves clean in the river!

This man Baal weighs upon me.
He’s not light enough anymore.

I’m an objective person.

With just a piece of chalk

you could easily map
the course of his life on a wall.

Nevertheless...

I don’t want to witness

the fits of debility
to be expected before his demise.

I’m not a vengeful man.

You know, I’d feel something
was really wrong

if he didn’t somehow
go down in flames.

His mother died yesterday.

He’s running around gathering money
for the funeral. He’II bring it here.

Then we can pay for the drinks.

The owner here is a decent man.

He’II give us credit
to toast a dead mother.

— The winds gone out of his sails.
— You put up with a lot from him.

You can’t spit in his face.
He buckles.

Does that bother you?

I tell you, it’s a shame.
He’s a piece of world history.

He’s more and more disgusting.

Don’t say that.

I love him. I never resent him,
because I love him.

— He only does what he must.
— Because he’s so lazy.

Here he comes. Watch it.

Is that you?

Baal?

What a miserable dump
this place is now!

Nothing’s changed here.

But it seems
you’ve gotten more refined.

— Is that you, Sophie?
— It’s pleasant here. Beer!

I have to drink a lot.

Granted, you still make your way
to hell along a path of razors,

but it’s as if your knees
turn springy and give way gently.

I never had such peculiar ideas

when I still had
a good, bourgeois life.

It’s only now
that I have fits of genius.

I want to be back
in the woods at dawn.

The light between the tree trunks
is the color of lemons.

I want to go back to the woods.

You have such simplicity of heart.

Bring Johannes a drink.

At night I sometimes dream
such fearful things... but only at night.

It’s very pleasant here now.

There are still lovely trees
by the hundreds

In Viting and shady and high

You can hang yourself
from the branches

Or under a free you can lie

Where was it
that everything felt like this before?

Things felt exactly like this once before.

When Johanna Reiher was here.

She’s still floating out there.
No one ever found her.

Sometimes I get the feeling

she’s floating down my throat
in all the booze.

A tiny corpse, half rotten,
though she was already 17.

Now there are rats and weeds
in her green hair.

Sort of suits her, actually.

A bit swollen and pale,
filled with stinking, jet—bIack ooze.

She was always so clean. That’s why
she drowned and started stinking.

What is flesh?

It disintegrates like spirit.

Gentlemen, I’m completely drunk.

Two times two is four.

So I’m not drunk.

But I have inklings
of a higher world.

Bow down and be humble.
Cast off the old Adam.

I haven’t hit bottom
so long as I still have inklings,

and I can still work out
that two times two —

What is “two”?

What a funny word.

I’m going to sing!

Sick from the sun,
eaten raw by the rain

Stolen laurels in his tousled hair

He forgot his youth
but not his youthful dreams

He forgot the roof
but never the sky up above

That’s a good song.
Just my style — romantic.

What are you doing here?

They order a lot of beer.
Sometimes cognac too.

Most want beer.
Cognac, not as many.

Baal, keep singing.

You who were cast out
of heaven and hell

You murderers
who've sufiered so much

Why didn't you stay
in your mothers’ wombs

Where it was still
and one slept and one was

I can’t find my glass.

The tabIe’s wobbIing_

Turn the lights on!

— Can you see, Baal?
— No. I don’t want to.

The darkness is beautiful.

Are you my friend, Ekart?

Yes, but keep singing.

Waltzing through hells
and flogged through paradises

Calm and grinning
with eVer—changing face

He dreams now and then
of a small meadow

With blue sky above
and nothing more

- Take me along. I hardly eat a thing.
— Let there be light!

You’re blinding me.

What’s the matter? It’s nothing.

This is ridiculous.

You can’t be jealous of her!

Why shouldn’t I have a woman?

Aren’t I your lover?

— He has a knife!
— He’s killing him!

For God’s sake, let him go!

We’re completely free,
with no obligations.

We can sleep in the hay,
or outdoors, or not at all.

We can take a stroll.
We can sing.

Our dreams lie ahead.

We can relax about life...

which is just a better way
of saying we can croak_

The police.

Murderers are always looking
over their shoulders.

Pale wind in black trees,
like Lupu’s wet hair.

The moon will rise at 11:00.
Then it’ll be light enough.

This is a small woods.

I'll push on to bigger ones.

I can forge ahead
now that I’m on my own again.

I have to bear north,
on the ribbed side of the leaves.

I have to leave
this little matter behind.

Onward...

Beneath gloomy stars
in this Vale of tears

Baal grazes broad fields
and smacks his lips

Once the fields are bare
Baal skips with a song

Into the eternal woods
to get some sleep

What are you thinking about?

I’ve always wanted to know
what a man thinks about

at the moment of death.

I think I’m listening to the rain.

What?

You’re dying, and you say
you’re listening to the rain?

All this is because...

you wouldn’t look
the situation straight in the eye.

You’re on your last legs.
Even a child can see that.

Who’s looking after you?
You have anyone?

You see? Grit your teeth!
You got any teeth left?

Sometimes billionaires die

who could have gone on
really living it up.

But you don’t even have ID.

Try to be more detached about it.

Tell yourself it’s just a rat dying.

Don’t kick up a fuss.
You have no teeth left.

He drank like a fish.

But something about that pale lump
makes you think of yourself.

He didn’t come
into the world like that.

— What time is it?
— 11:00. You leaving?

Soon.

Are the roads bad?
— It’s raining.

Time to go. Come on.

Everything will be soaked.
Another excuse for him to do nothing.

You gonna bite the dust incognito?

Go on and die.
— Good—bye_

See what you can do
about the stench.

We work till noon and then we eat.

CouIdn’t you stay a bit longer?

Just 30 minutes.

Croak on your own!

Let’s go.

— You won't want to die alone either!
— Old woman!

Something to remember me by.

Just 20 minutes!

— The sky...
— Wipe the spit away.

— Where?
— On my forehead.

— Why are you laughing?
— It tastes good.

You’re done for. Good—bye_

Thank you.

Can I do anything___?
No, I have to work.

Jesus! Corpses!

Hey! Come closer.

It was very beautiful.

— What, you madman?
— Everything.

A connoisseur!

— Hey!
— Yeah?

— You going?
— To work.

— Where?
— What do you care?

— What time is it?
— Quarter past 11:00.

He’s gone to the devil.

One, two, three, four...

It doesn’t help.

Mama...

A man died in the eternal woods
as a storm roared all around him

Died like a beast in talons of roots,
looking up at the treetops

Where above the woods
the storm raged unabated

People stood all around
and tried to calm him

“We'll carry you home, friend”

But he kicked and spat and said,
" Yeah ? Where ?”

For he had no home or land

"How many teeth have you left?
And hows the rest of you?

Try to die quietly
with a bit less fuss

We already ate
your horse last night

Why this t0—do about going to hell?”

And the woods resounded
around him and them

They watched as he clung to a tree
and heard him shriek

It horrified them
and their clenched fists trembled

For he was a man like them

“You're foul and useless,
a mangy beast

Just pus and grime, you ragged heap

You're breathing up our air
in your greed, ” they said

And he, the festering sore, said...

‘'I want to live and take in your sun

And ride in the light like you”

Yes, the sheer weight of lifes excess

Pressed his rotting carcass
into the earth

At dawn he fell down dead
in the dark grass

Disgusted, they buried him
cold with hate

In the deepest undergrowth

When the dark, earthy womb
held the rotting Baal

The sky above was yet
Vast and still and pale

Young and bare and utterly sublime

Just how Baal loved it
in Baal 3 time

He kicked the bucket!

Dead.

That’s really something...

dying like that today.

Hats off!