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Амадей

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tricks like a circus freak?"
How could I tell him
what music meant to me?
While my father prayed earnestly to God
to protect commerce
I would offer up...
secretly...
the proudest prayer
a boy could think of.
"Lord, make me a great composer.
Let me celebrate your glory
through music
and be celebrated myself.
Make me famous through the world.
Make me immortal.
After I die
let people speak my name
with love for what I wrote.
In return
I will give you my chastity
my industry
my deepest humility,
every hour of my life.
Amen. "
And do you know what happened?
A miracle!
My life changed forever.
I knew God had arranged it all.
That was obvious.
One minute I was a frustrated boy
in an obscure little town.
The next I was here
in Vienna, city of musicians
and Emperor Joseph, the musical king.
In a few years, I was his court
composer. Isn't that incredible?
Every night I sat with
the emperor of Austria
playing duets with him
correcting the royal sight-reading.
Actually, the man had no ear at all.
But what did it matter?
He adored my music.
Tell me
If you had been me
wouldn't you have thought
God had accepted your vow?
And believe me, I honored it.
I was a model of virtue.
I kept my hands off women.
I worked hours every day
teaching students, many for free!
Sitting on endless committees
to help poor musicians.
Work, that was all my life.
And it was wonderful.
Everybody liked me.
I liked myself.
Until he came.
He came to Vienna to play
some of his music
at the residence
of the Prince Archbishop of Salzburg.
Eagerly, I went there to seek him out.
That night
changed my life.
As I wandered through the salon
I played a little game with myself.
This man had written
his first concerto at the age of 4
his first symphony at 7,
a full-scale opera at 12!
Did it show?
is talent like that
written on the face?
Which one of them
could he be?
Mozart is not here.
- Stop it!
- I am.
- Stop it!
- I am stopping it.
I am! I'm stopping it. Slowly.
There. You see? I've stopped.
- Now we're going back.
- No!
Yes! You don't know where you are.
Here, everything goes backwards.
People walk and dance and sing
and even talk backwards.
- That's stupid.
- Why? People fart backwards.
Ssa-ym-ssik!
Ssa-ym-ssik!
Yes, you are. You are very sick.
No! Say it backwards, shit wit!
Ssa-ym-ssik.
Ssik, kiss.
Ym, my. Ssa.
Kiss my ass.
Em-yrram!
- I'm not playing!
- Say it, it's serious.
It's very serious.
Yrram.
Marry me.
I'm not gonna marry you.
You're a fiend.
Uoy-evoI-I-tub.
Tub.
But I
love
But I love you?
- Tihs-ym-tae.
- What?
- Eat.
- Eat.
- Ym, my.
- My.
Tihs. Eat my shit.
You filthy fiend!
You filthy--!
My music.
They've started without me.
That was Mozart!
That giggling, dirty creature
I'd just seen crawling on the floor.
- I think that went well, don't you?
- Indeed.
The Viennese know good music,
don't you think?
Certainly.
Your Grace.
Ah, Mozart.
- Why?
- Why what, sir?
Why do I have to be humiliated
in front of my guests
by one of my own servants?
The more license I allow you,
the more you take.
If His Grace is not satisfied,
he can dismiss me.
I wish you to return immediately
to Salzburg.
- Your father is waiting for you there.
- No, Your Grace!
I would prefer you dismissed me.
It's obvious I don't satisfy.
I have no intention of dismissing you.
You will remain in my service
and learn your place.
On the page it looked
Nothing!
The beginning simple, almost comic.
Just a pulse.
Bassoons, basset horns
like a rusty squeezebox.
And then, suddenly
high above it
an oboe.
A single note, hanging there,
unwavering.
Until
a clarinet took it over
sweetened it into a phrase
of such delight.
This was no composition
by a performing monkey.
This was a music I had never heard.
Filled with such longing,
such unfulfillable longing.
It seemed to me I was hearing
the voice of God.
Excuse me.
But why?
Why would God choose
Амадей Амадей

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- текст Всё будет хорошо на английском
- текст Протокол на английском
- текст Бетховен 2 на английском

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