Vredens dag

Rev. Absalon Pederss?n:
There is nothing so quiet as a heart that has ceased to beat.

Martin:
Shall we ever find each other again?

Anne Pedersdotter:
Who shall prevent it?

Martin:
The dead.

Anne Pedersdotter:
I see through my tears, but no one comes to wipe them away.

Boy's Choir:
[singing ] Day of Wrath. Day of Mourning. See fulfilled the prophet's warning. Heaven and earth in ashes burning. Oh what fear man's soul renders. When from Heaven the Judge descends. On whose sentence all depends. Wondrous sounds the trumpet sings...

Anne Pedersdotter:
Absalon, hold me. Hold me and make me happy.

Rev. Absalon Pederss?n:
I must look into myself. I have much to speak to God about.

Rev. Absalon Pederss?n:
Goodnight, Anne. Look into my eyes. Your wonderful eyes. So childlike. Pure and clear... Goodnight.

Martin:
Anne, you're crying.

Anne Pedersdotter:
I see you through my tears.

Martin:
Tears that I wipe away.

Martin:
No one has eyes like yours.

Anne Pedersdotter:
What are they like? Childlike? Pure and clear?

Martin:
No, deep and mysterious. But in their depths I see... a trembling, quivering flame.

Anne Pedersdotter:
...which you have kindled.

Martin:
Let's go to the birches.

Martin:
You were always in my thoughts.

Anne Pedersdotter:
And you in my dreams.

Anne Pedersdotter:
Hear how they whisper.

Martin:
It's the grass humming.

Anne Pedersdotter:
Humming what?

Martin:
A song about the two of us.

Anne Pedersdotter:
The song of your love.

Martin:
And of yours.

Anne Pedersdotter:
Hold me tight. Make me happy.

Rev. Absalon Pederss?n:
When I see those two together, I feel for the first time how old I am... And how young she is. It is good Martin came home. I will join them and be young with the young.

Anne Pedersdotter:
We will have a small house by the sea. Every morning I shall wake... my head on your shoulder. With a kiss I awake you. Then we hear from his cradle a little Martin crying. I pick him up. And as I found life at your breast, he'll find life at mine. The tenderness you gave to me, I give back to him. While I hum for him a song about us two. Isn't it lovely to think about?

Rev. Absalon Pederss?n:
I am tired. But I don't think I can rest. I come from a man who died in piety. But otherwise, if I think of all the sighs from other deathbeds I have sat by, I see only sin... and sin... and sin. The pleasure of the moment. The secret sin. Oh, Lord... what lives men lead.