3The Letter of Claudia Procula to Fulvia Romelia

French cinematic folk, 1990s scoring

V6-WILD

• Introduction: Jerusalem, in the heart of the turmoil. Claudia Procula, haunted by the premonitory dream she had concerning the "just man" about to be judged, writes in secret to her childhood friend back in Rome. She confides her anguish at the madness of this province and the cowardice of her husband, swept away by reasons of state.
(Verse 1)
Beneath the heavy Judean sky and its burning stones,
My dear Fulvia, I write to you with a trembling soul.
Here the desert wind tastes of sulfur and blood,
And my nights are haunted by a threatening dream.
I saw this man, this wise man with bare, unarmed hands,
Before whom the proudest of our armies bent;
My heart suddenly knew what Rome does not yet know:
We seal our fall by signing his death.
(Chorus)
Oh! Rome is far, and her gods are deaf,
Amidst this people with velvety rages.
I saw in a mirror of tears and mystery
The innocent's blood fall back upon the earth.
Fulvia, tell me, what is an empire and its law
When a simple vision shatters our faith?
(Verse 2)
Pontius hesitates, pacing the marble palace,
His eyes fixed far off on the silhouette of a tree.
He fears Caesar, he fears the furious mob,
And prefers to extinguish the voice of prophecy.
He washes his hands in the clear water of the basin,
Believing he can thus erase the torments of destiny.
But water washes nothing when the conscience is impure,
And a deep fissure opens upon our future.
(Chorus)
Oh! Rome is far, and her gods are deaf,
Amidst this people with velvety rages.
I saw in a mirror of tears and mystery
The innocent's blood fall back upon the earth.
Fulvia, tell me, what is an empire and its law
When a simple vision shatters our faith?
(Verse 3)
The drums have stopped, the crowd has dispersed,
But the weight of this day remains, deeply embedded.
I keep in secret the fold of this white cloth,
Where I implored Pilate to suspend the sentence.
We build temples and roads of stone,
But we have just lost our entire soul.
Keep this letter, my sister, at the bottom of your box,
If one day history seeks to know the truth.
(Outro)
(The music calms, a solo violin rises)
The wind still blows over the ramparts of Jerusalem...
And silence falls once more.
Farewell, Fulvia.
May Rome never pay the price of this day.

2253/7500

• Introduction: Jerusalem, in the heart of the turmoil. Claudia Procula, haunted by the premonitory dream she had concerning the "just man" about to be judged, writes in secret to her childhood friend back in Rome. She confides her anguish at the madness of this province and the cowardice of her husband, swept away by reasons of state. (Verse 1) Beneath the heavy Judean sky and its burning stones, My dear Fulvia, I write to you with a trembling soul. Here the desert wind tastes of sulfur and blood, And my nights are haunted by a threatening dream. I saw this man, this wise man with bare, unarmed hands, Before whom the proudest of our armies bent; My heart suddenly knew what Rome does not yet know: We seal our fall by signing his death. (Chorus) Oh! Rome is far, and her gods are deaf, Amidst this people with velvety rages. I saw in a mirror of tears and mystery The innocent's blood fall back upon the earth. Fulvia, tell me, what is an empire and its law When a simple vision shatters our faith? (Verse 2) Pontius hesitates, pacing the marble palace, His eyes fixed far off on the silhouette of a tree. He fears Caesar, he fears the furious mob, And prefers to extinguish the voice of prophecy. He washes his hands in the clear water of the basin, Believing he can thus erase the torments of destiny. But water washes nothing when the conscience is impure, And a deep fissure opens upon our future. (Chorus) Oh! Rome is far, and her gods are deaf, Amidst this people with velvety rages. I saw in a mirror of tears and mystery The innocent's blood fall back upon the earth. Fulvia, tell me, what is an empire and its law When a simple vision shatters our faith? (Verse 3) The drums have stopped, the crowd has dispersed, But the weight of this day remains, deeply embedded. I keep in secret the fold of this white cloth, Where I implored Pilate to suspend the sentence. We build temples and roads of stone, But we have just lost our entire soul. Keep this letter, my sister, at the bottom of your box, If one day history seeks to know the truth. (Outro) (The music calms, a solo violin rises) The wind still blows over the ramparts of Jerusalem... And silence falls once more. Farewell, Fulvia. May Rome never pay the price of this day.

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*3*The Letter of Claudia Procula to Fulvia Romelia

3The Letter of Claudia Procula to Fulvia Romelia