Я все растратил, Что дано мне было богом. А теперь пойдем, приятель, Ляжем в логове убогом. И не будем медлить боле!.. Но скажи мне, Череп, что там — За углом, за поворотом, Там — за гранью?..
Череп
Что там? Тьма без времени и воли…<p>Old Don Juan</p>
(Shabby room in the inn).
Don Juan:
Curse! Endless drumming! Dreadful nights of nothing in a Wretched dwelling! Catalina!
Catalina
(enters):
Coming!
Don Juan:
At last! Your gentle Gaze falls on the truly loving! Draw some closer to the candle. Let my suffering have merit! Hold my hand and…
Catalina:
Quit it! How unbecoming Of your age.
(Proceeds to exit)
Don Juan:
She flees my torment! Eve incarne, wicked gender! Rather choosing youthful servant, Gladly ready to befriend her. Evenings spent with boring infants, Leaving passion unrequited! What's the body's purpose if its Freshness has forever withered? Mirror, hide this disappointment! Wrinkled skin, teeth's rare count! Hair no longer fragrant! (Drops the mirror to the ground). Stubbornness to leave arena Battles our feeble conscience. Every Helen, every Venus Leave us for seductive servants. No substance can be soothing, Only youth enraptured matters For a whore of highest schooling, Or a slut, derived from masses. Aging — what an inhibition! I have been reduced to torpor By the rotten contradiction Of the content and its cover… Joys of living should be youthful Even if you in the process Are unkind, uncouth, untruthful. Aging — that's the worst of tortures! Vengeful Lord, in your destruction Don't punish twice but rather Crush the longing for seduction, Take away the drives for pleasure! Lusty serenades! Erotic Urges by the moonlight dancing! Why have you become despotic On the verge of slow passing? Thus, my ties with wicked gender Mark an end. Thus ends an era! Catalina! Catalina!
(Enters Skull of the Commander)
Skull:
Well, greetings, Caballero! Decades lost, without water, Light and heat — just sand and ashes.
Don Juan:
(retreats in horror).
Holy Mary! Goodness gracious! Name yourself!
Skull:
Think of Anna…
Don Juan:
Which one of Annas? Of Toledo? Of Grenada? Or perhaps the one who echoes To this day the song of ardor? Weeks of mirth, indeed, they happened. I remember us! Together! Well, and how is she at present — Or… I should not raise the matter. Am I right that once her spouse Fell a victim to misfortune? Skull, is that what you are broaching? I am fully at your service.
