[varu]

Finalul din O Último Mergulho. Hölderlin transpus peste o dragoste adolescentină. Cea mai romantică secvență de cinema pe care am văzut-o în ani de zile. Contează și contextul întregului film (ba chiar o îmbogățește cu sensuri surprinzătoare), dar funcționează perfect luată și separat.

"I have received, my Hyperion, the letters you sent me from afar. Everything you say deeply moves me and loving you so, I often tremble when I see the tender youth who wept at my feet transform into the warrior you are now. Will you not forget what love is? But go on! I am following you. If you were capable of hating me I believe I would even imitate you. I would make an effort to hate you, thus our souls would remain identical, and all would not be idle words, Hyperion. I myself am not what I once was. I no longer have a fond gaze on the world. All that lives has stopped being pure pleasure for me. Only the firmament, with its starts, still attracts my gaze. O, my Hyperion, come you swiftly to Calaurie, where you greet the silent forests of our love, where you greet me, then to rush back to your work. And do you think I fear the outcome? My beloved, I often feel it is close, but its most sublime thoughts are like flames that hold off the ice. "

"It's over, Diotima. Our men looted and killed mercilessly and our innocent Greek brothers from Misitra died, or wander lost, their sorrowful faces marked out by crying to heaven and hell for revenge angainst the Barbarians, at the head of whom was I. Now I can go and plead my cause. Now all hearts come towards me. But I was cautios. I knew who these people were. Strange project this was, wanting to form my paradise with a band of thieves. No, by Nemesis! What happened to me is fair, and I am ready to bear it. I will bear it, until pain removes my consciousness completely. Do you think I am furious? I received from one of my faithful when I was repelling the carnage an honorable wound. If I were furios, I would pull off the bandage covering it, and my blood would run to its rightful place, into this mourning earth. This mourning, bare earth, that I so wished to dress in sacred woods and adorn with all the flowers in Greek life. And how beautiful it would have been, my Diotima. Do you say I am disheartened? O my beloved, misfortunes have gone too far. Raging bands are breaking out in all directions. Like an epidemic, greed spreads in the moray, and if you don't also use the sword, you will also be banished and killed. In doing so, those who rage say they fight for our freedom. Members of the savage people were enlisted by the Sultan, and they do the same as the others. I hear our infamous army has been dispersed. In Tripolossa the cowards faced Albanian troops in very inferior numbers, but as there was no booty to steal, the wretches fled. The Russians, forty brave men who dared go on campaign with us, were the only ones who resisted, and they all perished. And so I am now as alone as Alabanda. Since my loyal friend saw me bathed in blood, in Misitra, he forgot everything else; his hopes, his desire for victory, his despair. The angry warrior had thrown himself on the looters like a vengeful god, he took me from the fight, and his tears wet my clothes. He also stayed with me in the hut where I had to rest, and I am pleased that this happened. If he carried on fighting, he would now be in Tripolissa, in the dust. How this will now turn out, I don't know. Destiny hurls me to the unknown, and I deserve it. My own shame exiles me from you, and who knows for how long? Ah, I promised you a new Greece and I send you a funeral song."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYu1XfeDKYo