Sin título 1.pdf
The Seventh Seal
The night had brought little relief from the heat, and at dawn a hot gust of
wind blows across the colorless sea. The KNIGHT, Antonius Block, lies
prostrate on some spruce branches spread over the fine sand. His eyes are
wide-open and bloodshot from lack of sleep.
Nearby his squire JONS is snoring loudly. He has fallen asleep where he
collapsed, at the edge of the forest among the wind-gnarled fir trees. His
open mouth gapes towards the dawn, and unearthly sounds come from his
At the sudden gust of wind, the horses stir, stretching their parched
towards the sea. They are as thin and worn as their masters.
The KNIGHT has risen and waded into the shallow water, where he rinses his
sunburned face and blistered lips. JONS rolls over to face the forest and
darkness. He moans in his sleep and vigorously scratches the stubbled hair
his head. A scar stretches diagonally across his scalp, as white as
against the grime.
The KNIGHT returns to the beach and falls on his knees. With his eyes closed
and brow furrowed, he says his morning prayers. His hands are clenched
together and his lips form the words silently. His face is sad and bitter.
opens his eyes and stares directly into the morning sun which wallows up
the misty sea like some bloated, dying fish. The sky is gray and immobile, a
dome of lead. A cloud hangs mute and dark over the western horizon. High up,
barely visible, a seagull floats on motionless wings. Its cry is weird and
restless. The KNIGHT'S large gray horse lifts its head and whinnies.
Block turns around.
Behind him stands a man in black. His face is very pale and he keeps his
hands hidden in the wide folds of his cloak.
Who are you?
I am Death.
Have you come for me?
I have been walking by your side for a long
That I know.
Are you prepared?
My body is frightened, but I am not.