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And when they drew nigh\nunto Jerusalem
then Jesus sent two disciples
Go into the village\nthat is over against you
and straightway ye shall find\nan ass tied
loosen them, and bring them unto me.
And if anyone say aught unto you
the Lord hath need of them.
And the disciples went and did
and brought the ass\nand the colt
and put on them their garments
And when he was come\ninto Jerusalem
I loved him\nas I would a brother
and now he's written me\na love letter
You're really leaving, Nikala?
I cannot stay at home\nany longer, madam.
You would do better\nto go to the village
where your sister lives,\nand look after the farm.
Your dear mother\nbade us look after you.
...may St George protect you.
-How do you do?\n-How do you do?
-You've been away a long time.\n-Truly.
My friend here is an artist\nfrom a far country.
It couldn't stand\nour Tiflis climate.
Our Nikala.\nDon't you know him?
Everyone here knows him.\nTall, and thin as a rail.
He's decorated\nall our Tiflis inns.
-Where is he now?\n-I can't say.
Don't even know\nif he's still alive.
I haven't seen him\nfor a long time.
He had friends\nin the Pesky district.
At one time\nNikala had his own shop.
But life is like a boat at sea;
the wind drives it\nwhere it will.
Do you have any other\nof his paintings?
-How do you do?\n-Oh, Nikala!
An angel. She does credit\nto her godfather.
-Where's Dmitri?\n-He'll be in soon.
The whole town is talking about it.
-Do you know who I am?\n-My godfather.
-Getting married?\n-Who would have me?
For three years\nI've been on the move.
I'm weary\nof the rattle of trains.
Train whistles\nare best heard from afar.
We're more or less kin.\nSona is my goddaughter.
I've no one closer in this town.
It will be a help to you,\nand it'll make somebody of me.
-What do I use for money?\n-I have the money.
When we get rich\nI'll build a house on a hilltop
with a view of the whole city.
You'll come to take tea with me
and we'll reflect on this time.
They give us milk,\ncheese, butter...
and be more ready\nto visit us.
Yes, I did. In time, I'll paint \nyou some deer too.
A head of cheese,\nbutter, yoghurt and honey.
I'm lonesome for the country.
It will be pleasant\nto lie on this grass.
All our profit will flow away!
Don't nag. I'll do business\nas well as I can.
My son will come tomorrow\nand pay all I owe.
Wake up, Nikala.\nDon't sleep on the damp ground.
Wake up!\nYour sister has come to visit you.
I asked around\nand was directed here.
It's been a long time.\nHow are you? And the children?
The children are well,\nGod be praised
I've brought some of our own wine.
Otherwise, please forgive us,\nthe crops failed this year.
Looks like my brother's grown rich.
I'll sell it in the village\nat a profit to him and to us.
You've matured\nand become a very capable man.
Why don't you ask\nwhy we've come?
Rich or poor,\nyou're still my brother.
What concerns you, concerns me.
You should leave a trace of yourself\non this earth.
You won't live forever.\nYour time has come.
Your time to marry!\nAny girl would have you.
Just don't choose\na stuck-up city girl.
A wife should be modest\nand respectful.
We know just the right girl\nfor you.
She's not one\nto get lost in bed!
that will alight by her side.
I'll kill\nthat brother-in-law of mine!
With this dagger I'll cut his throat!
They wanted me to marry\na beanpole of a woman.
So I have no use for you either.\nGet out!
Five roubles?\nIt used to cost 80 kopeks.
Money on the counter,\nor the door's open.
Good day, Nikala.\nWhere have you been so long?
My son will come tomorrow\nand pay for everything.
Something must have happened\nto keep him away so long.
Don't be shy.\nTake what you need.
Hold out your hand.\nI'll pour you some honey.
Would you sell the pictures?
where the graves of Queen Tamara\nand Rustaveli are?
or some godless rogue\nwill desecrate those holy sites.
My grandfather showed me\na crevice in a cliff.
If you crawl through it\nyou come to a valley
That's where the graves are.
It's night-time\nso how can we go now?
Let's drink\nto all the disinherited
to all the widows and orphans.
To all who suffer in this life.
To truth, to honour, to humanity!
You like our Nikala's paintings?
I'd even buy this one\nif you'd sell it.
But we'd like to see the artist
He had money\nand wasted it all.
He wouldn't accept it anyway.\nHe's very proud.
Wandering about the city somewhere.
No one knows what drives him.
Food is no good\nto a lonely man.
Tell us, what grief\ngnaws at your insides?
Perhaps we will understand you.
It's hard\nto go through life alone.
Paint something\nto cover this wall.
-Where does this barrel go?\n- Over there.
You know nothing about painting.
Go stand at your counter\nand sell drinks.
Niko, it's time\nyou stopped roaming the streets.
I'll pay you\nand give you a room.
After work, you can paint\nto your heart's content.
Show us how it's turned out.
I've worked hard,\nand now I must rest.
Why the deep thought, Nikala?
Drink and forget everything.
How much vodka has been\nallotted to me in my life?
Shall I drink it slowly\nand bear my burden longer
or drain it in one go\nand hasten the end?
Our life\nis a confused, drunken whirl.
A man must keep pace with it\nuphill and down
if he is to withstand\nits vicissitudes.
nothing works out for me\nas it does for others.
I've become stuck\nin the throat of this accursed life.
It neither swallows me\nnor lets me loose.
A wife will look after you,\nand bear you children.
Then you won't have lived in vain.
No, no, I can't bear\nthe wailing of infants.
I want neither wife nor children.
I'll go\nand take a stroll in the garden.
Vodka, Bego...\nI'm suffocating.
These are\nour Nikala's best pictures.
These feasting princes\nare easily worth thirty roubles.
You don't like Nikala's paintings?
They've entangled the whole world\nin cobwebs!
What's wrong?\nHas someone offended you?
For God's sake, leave me alone!
Are you Niko Pirosmanishvili?
We've been looking for you\nall over town.
We admire your work very much.
You've accomplished a great deal.
Soon your name\nwill be known far and wide.
Let's go find the graves\nof Queen Tamara and Shota.
To set eyes on their graves\njust once!
In that valley\nwhere the sun never sets!
Let us drink\nto those revered names.
I want to live under this sun.
I am already known\nin other countries.
My name\nwill not vanish without trace.
Who among you\nis Niko Pirosmanishvili?
Gentlemen, permit me\nto present to you
Niko Pirosmanishvili, \nthe artist of our city.
He has decorated\nmany of the taverns of Tiflis.
On their walls we can see Kakhetia,\nhunting scenes, festivals
views of Tiflis\nand the history of Georgia
Queen Tamara, Georgi Saakadze,\nand Shota Rustaveli.
His animals and birds\nare especially good.
One might single out his\nLion, Deer and Giraffe.
We consider that his work\nmerits attention
and we wish to collect it\nall together.
Perhaps the artist\nwould say a few words.
Brothers, let us build a big wooden house
in the centre of the city within easy reach of everyone.
We'll buy a samovar\nand gather together
to drink tea...\nand converse about art.
Where have you been\nall this time, brother?
I'll bring you an iron plough.
Only don't lend it to rich people.
They're crafty,\nand they won't give it back.
God grant you\nraise them all well.
What is it, brothers?\nWhat's happened?
They say you don't \nknow how to draw.
At your age you still have time
So they've made\na laughing stock of me.
What don't they like about me?
Did I ask them for anything?
It was they who came\npromising me rivers of gold.
As I have ploughed and sowed\nuntil now
I've never had a master over me\nand never will have.
I felt like painting\nand I painted.
St George commanded me\n"Paint, Nikala!
wear this sackcloth henceforth
and let it rub my neck sore?
Have you come\nas friend or as enemy?
I am the artist Lado.\nDon't you remember me?
Remember that artists' meeting?
I can't recall, did you praise me\nor condemn me then?
Condemn, I imagine, since you\nridiculed me in the press.
Don't think I harbour\nany kind of grudge.
I dismissed it from my mind\nlong ago.
I've been looking for you\nfor a long time.
You say I'm still remembered
I never did anyone any harm.
They're artists\nand I'm an artist.
I've painted all the inns in Tiflis.
Can artists\nbe in each others' way?
I love the sunrise.\nIt gladdens me.
Moonlight always makes me sad.
No... I will never understand\nthose artists.
They were talking\nabout something else.
You can use it to buy paints
and anything else\nyou need for your work.
Now permit me\nto take leave of you.
Or let us go to an inn\nfor a drink.
Come on, there's a picture\nof mine there.
For me and my friend,\nthe artist Lado.
A traveller pestered me for it\nand I sold it to him.
Don't go. Your company\ngives me so much pleasure.
But no, you should go.\nIt's late already.
Life rejected me\nand I turned away from you
I set our kinship at nought.
Your goddaughter is no more.
Mine must be an unlucky hand.
We won't let you out\nuntil you've painted the place.
You'll find all you need\nin the corner.
Anything else\nwe'll pass through the window.
I'm no good any more.\nMy hand refuses to obey.
Don't worry,\nyou have three days till Easter.
Brothers,\nwe've forgotten about Nikala.
-What are you doing here?\n-Dying.
No, no, Christ is risen!\nThe world is celebrating Easter.