The Poll Diaries Page #3

But didn't you need to breathe?

No.

- You're fibbing!

- I'm not!

You can't stay underwater that long!

- I asked.

- The famous doctor?

You're not telling the truth! So don't

accuse me of not telling the truth!

My heart beats slowly.

It only beats forty times per minute.

That's why I can stay underwater long.

Can I feel it?

- Have you got a clock?

- No.

It makes no sense without a clock.

Count up to sixty!

That is one minute.

You have to count!

I have to?

Please.

Do you think I could become a writer?

I would love to do that.

I write poems too.

Do you think I could become a writer?

No.

Why not?

You don't bring things to an end.

Whoever tells a story,

must be like a wolf.

Must search until he finds.

You didn't even count my pulse.

Yes, I did!

Please teach me something!

Leave it!

Show me something!

How do you tell a story properly?

What's important?

I thought you liked me a little bit.

Well...

You start with the hands.

- With the hands?

- Yes.

"I am the left!"

And I am the right.

And this right hand...

is a small drop of water.

A single, tiny drop of water.

The left hand, however,

the left hand is a black chicken.

The black chicken...

is walking about...

among the cabbage heads.

It walks and walks...

and suddenly sees the drop of water

on a leaf and wants to peck it off.

But this drop of water

houses intelligent life.

And what

are those intelligent beings

in the drop of water called?

They are microbes.

The microbes are highly educated,

charming,

or simply ingenious.

But the black chicken doesn't know this.

It circles the drop of water

stupidly and greedily.

There's chaos in the drop of water!

The microbes are trembling with fear.

Flee!

Let's flee, they scream.

And they flee...

to the very end...

of the drop of water.

But the black beak

is coming ever closer.

Then the socialist microbes say:

"Let's team up!

Let's try to make the drop

fall off the leaf!

Let's all head in that direction!"

"No!" the liberal microbes yell.

"We'll all do as we please!"

"No!" the capitalist microbes scream.

"Our factories will be empty!

No! No! No!"

And the most stupid and

most reactionary microbes yell:

"Long live Tsar Nicholas!"

Here.

Bride!

Or...

No.

Redskin.

No?

Yes.

Napoleon! Write!

- What?

- What would Napoleon write?

- I don't know.

- You do. Feel it! Feel his hair!

His clothes! Feel them!

Yes!

You write what you feel!

I feel...

I feel:

Josphine. Yes.

Josphine,

the empress.

You have to be Napoleon!

Not Oda! Napoleon!

You don't feel like Napoleon.

You feel like a cretin.

That's wrong! Napoleon! Yes?

Yes, that's better.

Good!

Yes, sit down!

Sit down!

Fetch your book and start writing!

Concentrate!

A love story

between Napoleon and Josphine.

Nice to see you again!

Lausanne,

am I right, my colleague?

Paris.

Paris.

That was the last time.

Oh well, you don't live so badly here.

- At the arse-end of the world,

if I may say. - That's true.

- But it's a beautiful arse.

- Yes, that's true.

- Shall we go inside first?

- Everyone in Dorpat is asking about you.

Why are you not attending the congress?

My husband was not invited.

I am ready.

Then read it out loud.

Desert hot the summer breeze,

ivory skies,

distant blue haze.

Heavy perfume wafts from the trees,

stars are dying where the cattle graze.

And the moon is smiling like a doll,

to light the shimmering shadows

of our sublime nights here in Poll.

To welcome all our blithe tomorrows...

Poll?

Yes.

The estate is called Poll?

Yes. What do you think of it?

What?

The poem about Napoleon?

The Poll estate!

Why are you so angry?

It's a horrible poem!

Stupid girl, stupid little emotions!

I'm sorry.

Here! Read this!

- Did you write it?

- A German wrote it. Read it!

I am a prole, so that's my fate.

This isn't a love story.

Read it! Read it from the beginning!

I am a prole, so that's my fate

to feel like a crawling worm.

I am a prole. I love to hate.

For me hate is a heart-warming term.

We have no house and we have no cash,

we live like cattle and swine,

we carry the world on our backs,

while you wear top hat and tails

when you dine.

We may be a pitiful clan,

born only to bow and to scrape.

But we bear our name for a reason:

We exist only to procreate.

Endowed we are with spermatic cords

to reproduce in millions.

To ensure that you, you barons and lords

will be comfortably fed by your minions.

Come in.

I like your idea a lot.

The disposal of burdensome

children is no crime,

nor an immoral act, that's quite clear.

- It is a practical act.

- This is colossal!

And the conception of good children

should not be the result

of a random drunken night.

And what is up there?

Excuse me.

My dear friend,

you really have some

very interesting specimens here.

Excuse me, gentlemen!

And?

Thank you ever so much

for the donation.

I mean, how did you like it?

You have a very nice forest here.

Could I apply for a professorship?

- You could try, I guess!

- In Vienna?

You turned that saw mill into a laboratory?

Yes.

If you turn that laboratory

back into a saw mill,

then that forest there

will make you very happy.

Best regards!

Two?

- No.

- One?

- One day?

- I am endangering you.

Your family will be in trouble

if they find me.

There's a picnic on Millagi beach

the day after tomorrow.

Stay just one more day!

I have to leave now!

But everyone will be gone.

And in the meantime I can organise

the things for your journey.

A journey is something else.

What do you need?

Day after tomorrow?

You can get me everything?

Do you know what I'd really need?

But why do you need a gun?

You have to do something difficult.

Can you imagine

what will happen if they catch me?

I thought you liked me a little.

I do like you.

But you never have time.

I don't even know if you like me at all.

A lot.

Really?

Your hand, Paul!

What do you think is going

through your dead father's head now?

Leave the hand there, Paul!

Mr. Mechmershausen!

Three chickens,

one chamber pot, two towels,

a chess game, shaving gear, a cane...

- That wasn't me!

- And we should believe you?

We are supposed to believe a boy

who lies and steals?

A boy who steals a gun?

Why did he steal that gun?

I don't know.

Are you involved in this in any way? Oda?

No!

Shut the door.

Shut the door!

But his fingers.

Shut that door!

Or do you want to swap places?

Shut the door! Now!

Will you be coming to the soire?

Yes, later.

You used to enjoy them.

Yes, in the past.

Do you love him?

Who?

Do you think I'm blind?

Yes, you are blind.

You open countless skulls. But you

have no idea what makes a human being.

What would that be?

We can change.

Your son will play

and my daughter will sing!

You know what happened to my friends?

What's all this about?

Sit down.

But we don't have time,

we have guests.

But you know that, darling!

Nobody changes!

Nobody changes, you understand?

Everything stays the same!

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