Szindbád, bon voyage! Page #4

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always have them.

After the game?

Who am I to be told what to eat?

The course-inspector's daughter, too,

was called Patience.

Am I disturbing you, sir?

The Baron Wiener-Waldau

who was fond of me,

once asked me, if I would like

to marry Patience.

I married her.

And that was my undoing.

I loved her deeply.

She ran away and became a cashier

in Debrecen.

Now I'm ready

for half a litre of good wine!

So, Patience became

a cashier in Debrecen?

She filed for a divorce from there,

when a foolish country gent

asked for her hand.

That foolish country gent was me.

I was Patience's

second husband.

Did she leave you, too?

Did she bolt again?

Where is she now?

One must make peace with it.

I'll go wherever you want.

We'll leave tomorrow night.

I was born near the river,

and as a girl I always saw babies

in the water.

And now I have no children,

I've only you.

She was only twenty.

Death has no light,

and no shadow.

But it has a faint smell of rosemary.

We got rid of

a pair of worn trousers

and a nickel-plated watch chain.

We no longer need greetings

and lies,

the requisites of this worldly life.

You're the only one,

Majmunka.

How lucky I am

that women are so unfaithful

like the morning dew.

So my turn comes up

from time to time.

Florentine is dead,

her blood fled

with her dreams.

You bought me

this Paul de Kock book, remember?

I now only sin when reading.

So I've settled

my account with life.

I've no more ambitions,

no hopes.

I sit on top of a tree like an old bird

and I'm glad

that there are still some

who can believe in life,

in love.

It's you, I love.

Let's go to bed, shall we?

You want me to speak

with the goldsmith's wife, don't you?

Well, yes.

I've gone mad.

The devil has taken my senses.

I hate myself so much

I could bang my head at the wall.

I went to see my mother.

She's well.

She lives as she used to years ago.

She looks after her bit of land and grape.

She doesn't depend

on anyone.

She's not like me.

They were of a different breed

as we grew up to be.

They knew how to live.

They knew how to live well.

These people know nothing

about the beauty of life,

about a good meal,

about a good rest.

I don't like the world of today.

They say it's a transitional age.

But I never wanted a transitional age.

I don't remember having asked for

this life either.

I surely didn't pull any strings.

I no longer want to know what's

there for a Hungarian to be happy about.

What's your favourite tune,

Doctor?

Play "Fly, my swallow"!

Do such old customers

ever die?

We must live

in the shadow of the spire.

What trouble can

true love bring?

Our lady-organist

may leave us any day,

if she hears people

gossiping about her.

You really should

return to the world,

however little

you understand it's way.

The trouble is, I know

no more about life than a child.

I don't know the secret of

how to behave, what to say,

how to succeed in life.

I ought to be living in a garden

or in a hospital, planning.

Only planning.

For as soon as it comes to action,

I make a mess of everything.

I miss the nail.

I have so many sins that at night

I daren't stay alone in a room.

The celebrated doctors

in Budapest!

Can't they do anything

about a little nightmare?

I'm not afraid of you,

I know you won't give me bad advice.

At night, when we reach the holy place,

stay by the church wall,

and sleep among

the old womenfolk.

Strange images dance

before my eyes,

yellow, like the waters

of the Poprad.

All gentlefolk are slightly crazy.

My father kept the postmistress'

old shoes in a drawer.

And you can't get a name

out of your head.

Her name's Dusky.

So that's what robs you

of your sleep.

The pilgrimage

will come to nothing.

You must sleep out in the open so that

the devils don't find you.

Do devils exist at all?

Of course!

But they daren't follow us here.

The days of my senses

are drawing to a close.

This gentleman can't sleep.

Make him sleep!

Women!

Wake up!

Heal my heart, mother,

please heal me!

Your father died

of heart failure, too.

Bad meal,

false wines,

and even falser kisses

poison your blood.

- When shall I die?

- There are still many ahead of you.

Dreams, dreams, sweet dreams,

Now, I'm closing my eyes.

Blessed be your coming,

my life's a dream,

my dreams are my life.

Winter Fairy!

Dear God,

I'm here again at last!

Thank you, Sindbad,

I'll always be grateful to you.

Winter Fairy,

God be with you!

God be with you,

Sindbad!

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