Dalida Page #4

Yet I let him walk away

Without a sign

That wasn't bad he confided

With the infernal candor of youth

I did my hair

A touch more makeup on my eyes

From force of habit

abuk dn!

With the infernal candor of youth

I did my hair

A touch more makeup on my eyes

From force of habit

I had simply forgotten

That I was twice eighteen

I'm pregnant.

-What?

-I'm pregnant.

That's wonderful!

By the young man?

-Yes.

-Very good.

-He's 22.

-So what?

-I'm 34.

-So what?

I can't ruin his life.

How would you ruin his life?

By marrying a kid.

Imagine the press.

We don't care what

the papers say.

Who mentioned marriage?

We'd look after him.

Another grandson for Giuseppina.

Mother mustn't know. Got that?

Then we won't tell her.

Don't you want a child?

-That's not the question.

-It's the only question.

I need a father.

For my child.

Not necessarily.

We grew up without one.

You reckon?

But we're here.

I can help out too.

It's not the life I dreamed of.

Life isn't dreamed, it's lived.

Quite the philosopher!

Does the boy know?

-No?

-No.

-Will you tell him?

-Never.

What will you do?

Here...

I don't know.

I remember

Several times not so long ago

You told me how

Everything would change

How I would love

To tell you what I have

Inside of me

When I'm alone

The face of a child

Always warms my heart

Like the bells in spring

My heart will ring

It will ring

It will sing

It's such a shame

I have never seen

The love I can feel

All around me

How I would love

To tell the world what I have

Inside of me

When I'm alone

The face of a child

Always warms my heart

Like the bells in spring

My heart will ring

It is ring

Lucio.

I had to leave sooner

than planned.

Don't try to contact me again.

I beg you...

...make my dream come true.

Accept this money for your studies.

Do it for me.

I must find myself

or I will lose myself again.

I'm going to stop singing.

Why do you want to

stop singing?

To concentrate on my spiritual

life.

You don't like the sing?

No, i love singing.

But sometimes

i feel ashamed...

...of people only become

just by singing.

Is that what you are feeling

when you sing?

-Ashame?

-No.

When i am singing

become the song.

Become my public.

I become the music.

There is no division any more.

Being awake spiritual is

like being one with yourself.

You are naturely awake

when you singed.

Your mission in life,

is sing.

This is how you help others?

You seem much more serene.

Much calmer.

I've been through

a lot of suffering.

After my suicide attempt,

I tried to understand.

The other day I was with

Lucien Morisse, my ex-husband.

I said to him:

You know me, you know my life.

I've always gone

from one man to another.

But I was always

looking for true love.

I'm sure true love exists.

It's a bigger love,

one that leads to God.

-You still love her.

-What nonsense!

-Do you love me?

-Of course I do!

Then stop gambling.

-The bank called again.

-I'll see to it.

Really?

-Tomorrow?

-Please, I'm listening.

Stronger than us.

That's love.

I'll sing "I am ill".

That's madness, it's not you.

It's what I've become.

Your audience wants to dream,

leave depression to others.

He's not wrong.

What my audience

want is the truth.

I always back you,

but I don't buy it.

Then rent us your hall.

-What?

-Rent us your hall.

Yes.

Dalida is the Olympia.

She won't go elsewhere.

I'd love you to play the Olympia

but I'm a producer not a landlord.

You're asking the impossible.

Do you think that...

...this might make things...

...a little less impossible?

What do you say?

We can think about it.

I no longer dream

I no longer smoke

And no more love affairs

I am dirty without you

I am ugly without you

Like an orphan in a dormitory

I no longer want to live my life

My life stops when you leave

I have no life

And even my bed

Turns into a waiting room

When you go away

I am ill

Utterly ill

Like when Mother went out at night

Leaving me alone

With my despair

I am ill

Totally ill

You have taken all my songs

Drained me of all my words

Yet I did have talent

Before the touch of your skin

This love is killing me

If this continues

I'll die alone, by myself

Near my radio

Like some stupid kid

Listening to my own voice sing

I am ill

Utterly ill

Like when Mother went out at night

Leaving me alone with my despair

I am ill

That's right, I am ill

You have taken all my songs

Drained me of all my words

And my heart is completely ill

Surrounded by barricades

You hear me?

I am ill

Perfect!

Fantastic!

I said you could sing ballads.

You wouldn't believe me!

I'm proud of you.

Lucien is too.

He's with us, you know.

Dalida! Dalida! Dalida!

Listen! Listen!

I do my best to be happy.

But death prowls around me

like a wild animal.

When I was young,

I wanted my father to die.

When he returned from the camp.

He was so wounded.

Mentally and physically.

He beat my brothers and me too.

But it was when he hit my mother

that I wanted him to die.

And he died.

I felt...

...guilty.

Guilty.

Same with Lucien and Luigi.

With time

Hello?

With time, everything goes away

The one we worshipped

The one we looked for in the rain

The one we'd sense

With just a glance

Between the lines,

between the words

Under the paint of a made-up oath

With time

Everything vanishes

With time

With time, everything goes away

Even the nicest memories

Can be tarnished by time

I rummage about in the mall

In the aisles of death

Saturday night

When tenderness takes its leave

This void...

What does it remind you of?

-Sundays.

I always thought

I'd die on a Sunday.

We don't usually get to choose.

Every Sunday I invite

friends for lunch.

So there's always a party

Your pasta is excellent.

-Thanks. It's a simple sauce.

-Really?

And your sitting room

is totally transformed!

Thanks.

Aren't you sick of that song?

Stop it!

You should be an actor, Pascal.

Who is it?

The Count of St Germain

has arrived.

Hurry!

-Hello.

-Dali my dear...

...this is my friend

Richard Chanfray.

Count of St Germain.

Delighted.

-Who's he?

-The alchemist from TV.

Transforming lead into gold.

Just wait till you see him!

Fabulous!

So you're immortal?

A little like you?

No, not like me.

I'm not immortal.

I was born 17,000 years ago.

I'm from a different

earthly vibration...

...that allows me to travel

through time.

I believe lots of things,

but that's a bit much.

I don't ask you to believe me.

-No.

-No?

I don't know

what's happening to me tonight.

I see you as if for the first time.

More words, always words,

the same words

So you really turn lead to gold?

Did you know that the root of gold

is our, which means light?

So amour means the soul

that is drawn toward the light.

You're a good talker,

Mr. Alchemist.

The time for dreaming is over

Memories also fade

When we forget them

You are like the wind that makes

violins play

And takes away the rose's perfume

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