1:20:00
Where'er you walk,
butterflies and flowers...
1:20:15
l can't sit still.
Petronius, Vinicius...
1:20:19
Though my soul is saddened,
1:20:23
l feel l can present
this song in public.
1:20:27
You can perform it here,
in Rome, in Achaea.
1:20:35
When l play and sing,
1:20:37
l discover delights
l cannot name or understand.
1:20:41
l can only feel them.
And though powerful and divine,
1:20:46
l feel as insignificant as dust.
1:20:50
Only the greatest artists
are capable of such humbleness.
1:20:54
l know what they write
on the walls of Rome.
1:20:59
''Matricide, uxoricide''...
l am a monster to them.
1:21:03
Am l really such a tyrant?
1:21:06
Cruel deeds not always
denote cruelty!
1:21:10
- They should know you like l do.
- There are rumours
1:21:14
that Diodorus and Terpnos
play the cithara better than me.
1:21:19
Tell me the truth,
do they really?
1:21:24
You have the sweet touch
of an artist,
1:21:27
they are merely skilled.
1:21:31
Let them live, then!
You've granted them a big favour.
1:21:35
l am an artist
in everything l touch.
1:21:39
l know, they call me insane.
My vain search maddens me.
1:21:45
l'm searching, searching!
1:21:47
This is why l had
my mother and wife killed.
1:21:52
l hoped such sacrifice
would open a gate
1:21:56
to something
unimaginably great and fearsome.