Raja Maansingh:
the surgeon is waiting for permission - Prince! Won't your wounds be washed?
Prince Saleem:
[flourishing his sword]
They are not wounds, they are flowers, and the withering of flowers is shameful for spring. Look at my sword - it's not only a killer, it is a sweetheart; as well as a sword it is the branch of a flower.
Raja Maansingh:
The humour that has bathed in blood for 14 years is filled with poetry - how strange!
Prince Saleem:
Nothing strange about it - if the poetry of Khayyam is written on stone, will it change its meaning?
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:49
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