Der Tod Der Maria Malibran (full movie)

i don't own anything

Daily the fair Sultan's daughter
Wanders to and fro at twilight

By the margin of the fountain,
Where the waters white are rippling.

Daily the young slave at twilight
Stands beside the fountain's margin,

Where the waters white are rippling,
Daily grows he pale and paler.

There one evening moved the princess
Toward the slave with words swift-spoken:

"Tell me, tell me what thy name is,
Where thy home is, what thy lineage?"

Spake the youthful slave: "My name is
Mohamet, I come from Yemen;

and by birth I am an Asra,
One who dieth when he loves."

"And by birth I am an Asra,
One who dieth when he loves."

See the madwoman as she passes by dancing

and vaguely recalling something.

Children pursue her with stones
as if she were a blackbird.

She brandishes a stick and
makes as if to pursue them.

But then she continues her way.

She has lost a shoe on her way.
But she does not notice it.

Long spider's legs crawl
at the nape of her neck,

but these are nothing but her hair.

Her face no longer resembles
any human countenance,

and she bursts into shrieks of laughter,
like a hyena.

She lets fall rags of phrases of which,
if they were knit together,

very few would would have any
clear significance.

Her gown, torn in several places,

flutters about her bony
and dung-sprinkled legs.

She wanders on like a poplar leaf
borne upon a whirlwind.

She, her youth, her illusions
and her former happiness

remembered now through the mists

of a ruined mind.

She has lost her former pristine
grace and beauty;

Her bearing is mean,
and her breath reeks of brandy.

If men were happy on this earth,

there would be cause
for astonishment.

The madwoman makes no reproaches,

she is too proud to complain
and will die

without having revealed her secret to those
who interest themselves in her

but whom she has forbidden
to ever address a word to her.

Children pursue her with stones
as if she were a blackbird.

She has dropped a roll of paper
from her bosom.

Someone picks it up,

locks himself in his room all night,
and reads the manuscript

that contains the following:

But when you say: "I love you",

I have to cry bitterly.

Let me enter,

before it is too late!

Your desire means nothing to me.

The appearance will vanish.

I'm looking for the laws.

When you embrace me, I feel a
sensation of humility

and can bear without sorrow
that you cherish me.

She is dead, Maria!

I beg you, God of Love,

take her to you.

A sailor, dressed in white,
walked down the street,

confident and with the
swaying walk of the seamen.

I looked at him, without
really knowing it.

He was much younger than I
had ever been

and much more beautiful and blond.

And his masculinity was so self-evident

that for a moment I felt
a sting, as if of envy.

Our paths crossed, and as if he
had seen in my eyes

a treacherous glint, he gave me
an inviting regard.

Such a regard he might just have

given to one of the beings, dressed up
with desperate accuracy,

in the cafés on the street.

Had this regard lasted only
a second longer,

then surely words would have been
spoken, something like the usual

"Hey Baby, shouldn't we know each other?".

My face was burning and my heart
was pounding in my chest

as I hurried on and tried
to look stiffly ahead.

He had caught me in an unguarded moment,

as I hadn't really thought of him,

but of the letter in my pocket

and of Helmut.

When I changed the street

I asked myself what he might have
seen in me.

I wasn't so young any more to believe,
that the way I walked

or held my hands had caught
his attention.

No, It must have been something different,
something that I didn't dare look in the eye.

For that would be like looking
into the flaring sun.

It was half past nine

and he hoped to be at home by ten.

It had been very presumptuous of him

to act as if he was sure
of knowing the future.

It had been very presumptuous of him

to act as if he was sure
of knowing the future.

Could not some unforeseen obstacle thwart him,

and would such a circumstance be so unusual,

as to lead him to regard it as an exception.

Why didn't he regard it rather as
an anormal fact

that it had been possible for him
to feel free of unrest

and, so to speak, happy?

Indeed.

With what right could he assert

to reach his home without damage,

and someone luring and following him

as if he was his future bait.

I so long for you.

I so long for you.

I so long for you.

That is death for me.

Death.

The judgements over men

are more precious than men themselves.

If I grant men

to despise me,

they shouldn't forget to say

that this is everything

I can do for them.

What am I supposed to do now?

I shouldn't have given him my love.

He is dead!

Let's put it off until tomorrow.

Federico Garcia,
the father of Maria Malibran

God be with you, friend!

God be with you, too!
Where are you headed?

To Eisenstadt!

Then we can go the way together.

I think the best possibility for
a young man

to earn his living is to
take up drugs.

To secure the grip of a tight footgear

is the most prestigious task
of a southerner.

I believe, though, that the refinement
of the object I occupy myself with

corresponds to the character
of a beautiful warm clothing.

To dress the nude is futile,

for I know that the grip of him,
who wears my footwear, is so tight,

that he has no use for warmth.

I strongly suggest you supply
yourself with sufficient supplies.

I, for one, are going to buy me
an ample amount of bread.

The way is short, so we are going
to be at our destination before dawn.

I am not afraid, Hugo!

You are going to regret it!

If you give me one of your
shining blue eyes,

then I will give you something to eat.

You shall eat your fill, but I will
cut out one of your eyes for that.

Where are we?

At a place where you can finally rest.

At the neighboring pond grows an alder,
between whose roots there blooms a blue plant.

If one brew a tea of it and gave it to
a sick person, would have cured him soon.

You know something good,
but my science is even higher,

it would do a lot of people good, they are
dying of thirst anyway in the capital, the fools!

When they could have water!

- And how?
- In front of the gate after dawn, grows a beech,

From the steed, there mold away leaves,
on that horse one has to jump

and chase three times around the town square,
but so that sparks are thrown out!

- Well, and you?
- All the blind on earth could see again.

The blind would have to wash his eyes with
the dew that drips from the leaves this morning!

I can see again!

If you give me one of your eyes...

I don't know you.

And I have never been here.

I'm a singer.

You too?

I, too, am a singer.

I, too, am... a singer.

Maybe... we shall meet again some time.

In the year 1814

When your foot slips on a frog

you have a feeling of disgust;

But when you lightly stroke
the human body,

the skin of your fingers scales off
like the laminations of a block of mica

as one fractures it with a hammer.

and even as the heart of a shark still
palpitates with tenacious vitality

after it has been dead for an hour,

so our entrails are still moved

long after the contact.

To such an extent does man inspire
his fellow man with horror!

TO SUCH AN EXTENT DOES MAN

INSPIRE HIS FELLOW MAN
WITH HORROR!

The antique temple of Mendera
is situated one and a half hour

from the left bank of the Nile!

Today tremendous droves of wasps took
possession of the rives and quays.

They buzz around the pillars like
the dense waves of a black head of hair.

As sole inhabitant of
the cold pillar hall

they guard the entrance to the forecourts

as if that was their ancestral right.

I compare the buzzing of their
metallic wings

with the never ending blows of
the ice floes

which collide during the icefall
of the polar seas.

But when I think of
the conduct of him,

whom prevision gave the throne
of this earth,

then the three pinions of my pain

let hear a stronger buzz!

But he is dead,

Maria, he is dead, dead, dead!

Even his grave is kept secret from me.

10 years later

Can you imagine that?

I am not aware of any guilt.

I say it for the last time,
I will not work with him again.

But I'm begging you, I just want
your best, just your best!

I cannot work with Federico again.

I don't want to and I can't!

- I'm begging you, Signora Malibran, you have to sing!
- It is impossible!

- You promised!
- It's madness!

It's madness to force me!

Signora Malibran, your daughter
just committed suicide.

Nobody can force her now!

But I'm telling you, it's best for you!

You have to do it, and
if it's only for me!

Soon you will be an angel in heaven

I'm going to die, but at least
mother is going to avenge me!

I'm not going to die alone and
somebody is going to follow me!

Poem "THE ASRA" by Hermann Hesse
translated by Emma Lazarus

CHANTS OF MALDOROR by Comte de Lautréamont
parts "See the madwoman...", "When your foot slips..."
translated by Guy Wernham

Subtitle Timing and Translation
by Kane32 for karagarga.net