Kismet Page #2

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Fate can play a trick with the twine

To weave the evil and good

In one design

And so my destiny

I look at you and cannot see

Is it good? Is it ill?

Am I blessed? Am I cursed?

Is it honey on my tongue or brine?

What fate

What fate is mine

Fate can play a trick with the twine

To weave the evil and good

In one design

And so my destiny

I look at you and cannot see

Is it good? Is it ill?

Am I blessed? Am I cursed?

Is it honey on my tongue or brine?

What fate, what fate is...

Good morning, O giant men of the desert.

Welcome to civilization.

You are the beggar called Hajj?

Even so am I. Far and wide the name of...

Permit me to correct myself.

My name is not Hajj.

- Silence.

- But my name... But my name is not...

You, what is this beggar's name?

- He said that Hajj, that he...

- Thank you.

But I tell you, you're making a mistake.

It must be a case of mistaken identity.

And I...

You're making a terrible mistake.

I don't think...

Now I know what you are.

You're slavers.

Slave traders of the desert. Allah! Allah!

- We have him, master. Hajj the Beggar.

- Good.

Such a profitless error. I have nothing.

Oh, glorious chieftain, let me be,

I pray you.

I'm not won'th selling at the slave market.

Look, my bad legs, injured in a fall,

unable to bear my weight.

I'm old, foolish, forgetful

and broken-brained.

I'm won'thless. Less than won'thless.

Talks a lot, doesn't he?

Are the irons hot?

Quite hot, master.

Take a look at my face.

Do you know me?

I know no one and nothing.

I have no memory.

- I am Jawan.

- Jawan. Oh, no.

Your memory freshens.

Well, it's a famous name, Jawan.

Let me see, it strikes a chord.

You're Jawan the great astronomer.

You dissemble poorly.

I'm Jawan, the robber, the brigand,

as you very well know.

But I don't know.

I've no interest in such matters.

By tomorrow, I will have forgotten

your face, I could never identify you.

- Bare his belly.

- Why? What for?

We're gonna decorate it with a white-hot

coal, gleaming in its navel like a jewel.

- In Allah's name, what have I done?

- Can it be he's forgotten?

Fifteen years ago you put a curse upon me,

Hajj the Beggar.

I have only been Hajj the Beggar

since this morning.

- His mind has rotted like a fig.

- I have never seen you before.

I know that. But 15 years ago, you put

a curse upon my name, Hajj the Beggar.

Soon after,

my only son was stolen from me.

All these years,

I've sought for my son everywhere.

I've offered ransom

that would purchase all Persia.

- Now, I am to die soon.

- Oh, let's hope not.

I must find my son in the weeks

remaining to me.

The wise men tell me it is your curse...

...that keeps me from him.

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