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Or can't a minstrel sing in a golden cage?
I have ordered you to sing, miserable beggar!
If you don't like a golden cage,
I shall have you cast in golden chains!
Leave! You may rest in my garden!
I have triumphed!
THE HAREM
NADIR PASHA'S REVENGE
You treacherous souls! You poisonous snakes!
You foul butterflies! I'll cut you in pieces, traitresses!
The destroyer of souls, Sultan Aziz, is ready to meet you, Ashik Kerib.
The warlike sultan will bind you in a shirt of iron mail.
And your lute and your lips will be silenced.
Beware of him!
Be careful!
Look after yourself!
THE WARLIKE SULTAN
Play!
I cannot play.
I command you to play!
My arms are bound in this shirt of iron mail.
It is difficult for me to hold my lute. So how can I play?
You forget that I am Sultan Aziz! Play!
I cannot breathe. Let me go!
Is that so! Then I'll have you thrown into a tiger's cage.
I cannot sing.
Off with his head!
Do not say you cannot sing! Off with his head!
Go on, sing! My tiger is waiting for you.
THE DEFILED HABITATION
Wait! What do you want from me?
I am a minstrel and this is my lute.
Stop beating me! Do not break my lute!
Stop it! I am your brother!
You cannot be my brother.
You are our enemy! Let sword and spear pierce his breast!
Anyone who travel in a foreign land is an enemy! They are all enemies!
THERE IS ONE GOD
THE MINSTREL'S LAMENT AND PRAYER
Open the gates, I want to pray.
I must make a confession to God.
O, lofty heavens! No one would open the gates!
Mother, where are you? Why have you abandoned me?
Who has defiled my home?
Who has put out my fire?
Who has let these evil spirits live here?
Away! Away! Don't touch me! Get away!
This bread. Baked by a mother's hands.
This bread is itself a mother's hands.
Bread baked in her warmth and love,
mixed with a mother's tears
and baked in her ***.
THE SAINT ON A WHITE HORSE
Who is groaning here and disturbing the heavens?
Is it you, poor minstrel? You still do not have the money.
You have wandered far in the world and met many hardships - all in vain.
Kurshud-Bek is going to marry your Magul.
Quickly mount my horse
and I will take you home
before you can bat your eye.
Make haste!
Magul is still waiting for you.
Close your eyes and we shall fly.
Earth and heaven, bear witness to a miracle.
Ashik Kerib is flying to his native land!
See, there are the walls of your hometown, Ardebille.
Take this purse.
If they do not believe
that you made this endless journey in only one day,
do a miracle.
Take the dust from the hoof of my steed
and wait for it.
Goodbye, minstrel!
A thousand days have passed since the joy of my eyes disappeared.
Born on a black day, I'm roaming black roads.
I see nothing and the sun over my head is black, too.
I'm waiting for him.
In one day, I have flown from Khamadan to Ardebille,
riding on the white steed of Saint Hazyr Ilyas.
In one day? Such a distance?
In one day? You're mocking at us!
You liar and good for nothing!
In one day, you say,
from there to here?
Look at this liar!
Have you ever heard such a ridiculous lie?
If you do not believe me, bring my blind mother here.
I will prove it to you.
What are you going to prove?
Bring my mother here and you'll see I'm speaking the truth.
This liar won't admit his deceit! He should be beheaded!
What are you saying, Kurshud-Bek? Today is your wedding day.
Who ever heard of blood being shed at a wedding?
How can we tolerate such lies?
Bring my mother here and I will prove my honesty.
Good people, can we permit this upstart to lie in this way?
What did you say? A day from there to here?
He is making fun of us! He is ridiculing us!
Do not believe him! Let me kill him!
Do not lose your hope, my friend.
The thousand days have passed. The last night remains.
I'm still waiting for him.
But at dawn I'll kill myself.
What are you saying, you who is more beautiful than a morning star?
Do not lose hope, my friend. There is still a whole night to wait.
Where am I? Whither have you led me?
We are at the wedding of Magul.
Why should I come to this feast of strangers?
Be calm, mother.
What could make me calm?
What are those sounds I hear?
No, it cannot be my sors lute.
My son cannot be here! No! No!
Calm yourself, mother, and listen.
Mother, it is I, your son Ashik Kerib.
Now I shall lift the black veil from your eyes.
I can see! A miracle has happened!
Mother! My mother!
Brother, you have returned, and heavers gates have opened!
Is he back? He has come back!
This is a double miracle!
Ashik Kerib has come back! It is a miracle!
Rejoice, sister!
Your beloved Ashik Kerib has come back!
Cast away the poison, throw down the dagger!
Rejoice, sister, and be merry!
Merciful God, I thank you! My beloved has come back!
My dream has come true.
I thank you, Lord, for all the good you have done!
HONOURS FOR THE BRIDE'S FATHER
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ANDREl TARKOVSKY