Hiroshima Mon Amour (Hiroshima mon amour)

You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.

I saw everything.

I saw the hospital-- I'm sure of it.

The hospital in Hiroshima exists.

How could I not have seen it?

You didn't see the hospital in Hiroshima.

You saw nothing in Hiroshima.

Four times at the museum.

What museum in Hiroshima?

Four times at the museum in Hiroshima.

I saw people walking around.

People walk around, lost in thought, among the photographs,

the reconstructions, for lack of anything else.

The photographs, the photographs,

the reconstructions, for lack of anything else.

The explanations, for lack of anything else.

Four times at the museum in Hiroshima.

I watched the people.

I myself, lost in thought, looked at the scorched metal.

The twisted metal.

Metal made as vulnerable as flesh.

I saw the bouquet of bottle caps.

Who would have thought?

Human flesh, suspended, as if still alive,

its agony still fresh.

Stones. Charred stones. Shattered stones.

Anonymous masses of hair

that the women of Hiroshima, upon waking in the morning,

would find had fallen out.

I was hot in Peace Square.

10,000 degrees in Peace Square.

I know it.

The temperature of the sun in Peace Square.

How could you not know it?

The grass. It's quite simple.

You saw nothing in Hiroshima. Nothing.

The reconstructions were as authentic as possible.

The films were as authentic as possible.

The illusion, quite simply, is so perfect

that tourists weep.

One can always scoff,

but what else can a tourist do

but weep?

I've always wept over Hiroshima's fate.

Always.

No.

What was there for you to weep over?

I saw the newsreels.

On the second day, history tells us-- I'm not making it up--

from the second day on,

certain species of animals crawled from the depths of the earth,

and from the ashes.

Dogs were captured on film for all time. I saw them.

I saw the newsreels. I saw them.

Of the first day, the second day,

the third day.

You saw nothing.

Of the fifteenth day too.

Hiroshima was covered in flowers.

There were cornflowers and gladioli everywhere,

morning glories and day lilies

born again from the ashes

with an extraordinary vitality unheard of in flowers before then.

I didn't make any of it up.

You made it all up.

None of it.

Just as the illusion exists in love,

the illusion you can never forget,

so I was under the illusion I would never forget Hiroshima.

Just like with love.

I saw the survivors too,

and those who were in the wombs of the women of Hiroshima.

I saw the patience,

the innocence,

the apparent meekness

with which the temporary survivors of Hiroshima

adapted to a fate so unjust

that the imagination, usually so fertile,

is silent before it.

Listen. I know.

I know everything. It went on.

Nothing. You know nothing.

Women risk giving birth to deformed children, to monsters,

but it goes on.

Men risk becoming sterile,

but it goes on.

Rain causes panic, the rain of ash on the waters of the Pacific.

The Pacific turns deadly, and its fishermen die.

Food becomes an object of fear.

An entire city's food is thrown away.

The food of entire cities is buried.

An entire city rises up in anger.

Entire cities rise up in anger.

But against whom do they rise up in anger?

The anger of entire cities, whether they like it or not,

against the principle of inequality advanced

by one people against another.

The principle of inequality advanced

by certain races against other races.

The principle of inequality advanced

by certain classes against other classes.

Listen to me.

Like you, I know what it is to forget.

No, you don't know what it is to forget.

Like you, I am endowed with memory. I know what it is to forget.

No, you are not endowed with memory.

Like you, I too have struggled with all my might

not to forget.

Like you, I forgot.

Like you, I longed for a memory beyond consolation,

a memory of shadows and stone.

For my part I struggled every day with all my might

against the horror of no longer understanding

the reason to remember.

Like you, I forgot.

Why deny the obvious necessity of remembering?

Listen to me. I know something else.

It will begin again.

200,000 dead and 80,000 wounded in nine seconds.

Those are the official figures. It will begin again.

It will be 10,000 degrees on the earth. Ten thousand suns, people will say.

The asphalt will burn.

Chaos will prevail.

An entire city will be lifted off the ground,

then fall back to earth in ashes.

New vegetation rises from the sands.

Four students await together, like brothers,

a legendary death.

The seven branches of the delta estuary

of the river Ota

drain and fill at their usual hour,

precisely at their usual hour,

with fresh water rich with fish, grey or blue,

depending on the season and time of day.

People along the muddy banks no longer watch

the tide slowly rise

in the seven branches of the delta estuary of the river Ota.

I meet you. I remember you.

Who are you?

You're destroying me. You're good for me.

How could I know this city was tailor-made for love?

How could I know you fit my body like a glove?

I like you.

How unlikely.

I like you.

How slow all of a sudden.

How sweet.

You cannot know.

You're destroying me. You're good for me.

You're destroying me. You're good for me.

I have time.

Please, devour me.

Deform me to the point of ugliness.

Why not you?

Why not you in this city and in this night

so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference?

I beg of you.

You have such beautiful skin.

You!

Yes, me. Surprised?

Are you completely Japanese or not?

Completely. I am Japanese.

Your eyes are green, aren't they?

Yes, I think they're green.

You're like a thousand women in one.

That's because you don't know me.

That might not be the only reason.

I don't mind being a thousand women in one for you.

Listen.

It's 4:00.

Why?

I don't know who it is.

Every day he passes by at 4:00 and coughs.

Were you here in Hiroshima?

Of course not.

That's right. How foolish of me.

But my family was in Hiroshima.

I was off fighting the war.

Lucky for you, eh?

Yes.

Lucky for me too.

Why are you in Hiroshima?

A film.

A film?

I'm acting in a film.

Where were you before you came to Hiroshima?

Paris.

And before Paris?

Before Paris I was in Nevers.

It's in the province of Nièvre. You don't know it.

Why did you want to see everything in Hiroshima?

It interested me.

I have my own idea about it.

For example, looking closely at things is something

that has to be learned.

that has to be learned.

Would you like some coffee?

What were you dreaming about?

I don't remember. Why?

I was watching your hands.