Original subtitles

I like a song.

My. What a strange boy you are.

Why? Tell me what the parents have to say about fate.

I don't know about the parents, but I'm quite sure there's no such thing.

So sad, then.

I didn't absolutely know all that would be.

To have no say over the conditions of one's own life.

With all these boys here, why else would I have come to you today besides fate?

Isn't it obvious?

Nothing about you is obvious.

Can I get you a drink?

My darling boy, last night I lay awake thinking about this time last year.

The wind in your hair, the sound of the sea, that blue book of poetry.

The longer we're apart, the more I believe it wasn't a fluke that we ended

up together on that boat, on that day.

How far away that seems now.

The news today sounds pretty bad, with the Germans in Paris.

I only wish I knew half the truth about what was going on.

For one thing, I hear some new lads whom I knew have been killed.

I'm writing from the underground, where we've had to take shelter.

Where are you, darling?

I anxiously wait for the postman in the early morning, and then when he does not

bring anything from you, I just exist.

Massive nerves, trying to keep my spirits up with the faint hope that

there will be news from you.

I'm so terribly lonely.

I hate being without you in a time when I need you the most.

I'm a damned fool, I suppose, but I just get more and more in love with you every

day.

I was walking through the park this morning, and I thought of that final,

frenzied weekend together in Devon.

As I chased the dawn and watched the light filter through the trees,

everything seemed to fade away, except for you.

How free it felt to be with you.

I close my eyes and I can see the way the light played on your face.

I smell summer and flowers lingering on your skin.

I think about these details, but nothing feels as significant as the memory of

holding you and regretting that I ever had to let you go.

The war has taken so much, but it gave us that weekend.

I believe we are far more tightly bound together than either of us have

realized. And the longer I live, the more I believe we are quite different

from all the other queer people. Our love is complete and is unlike the

others. It grows stronger instead of diminishing.

The rest of the world has no conception of what our love is.

They regard it as nothing more than friendship.

They do not and can never know that every fiber of my being cries out for

you all the time.

If I am with you or if I am thousands of miles away.

I long for you just as much.

Darling, I am so afraid that this war will take you away from me.

We're getting the lights back on.

Sir, you alright?

Sure.

To dream as I do of those summer nights

at Sorkham, the moonlight on the sea and the gentle flapping of the waves against

the waterlogged side of the old Merlin.

How far away we've seen them from the rest of the world.

Darling, I need you beside me, to feel your hand holding mine, my eyes gazing

into yours, and then I should know that there is something worth carrying on

for.

I'll miss my train.

You'll miss your train.

There'll be another.

I'll see you soon enough.

It's just a matter of time.

It's not only a matter of time.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if all of our letters could be published in the future

in a more enlightened time?

Then all of the world could see how in love we are.

Forever darling.

Yours, G.