Original subtitles

This is it.

You've got poetry.

If you want to write, you can write this in your book.

thanks.

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Beatrice!

What is wrong?

Go home. It's time to close.

You do not have to pay for your drink, but returned. We will cover.

- What are you doing? - I reflected.

With the window open?

Yes, with the window open.

Frankly tell me, what did he say to you?

Metaphor.

Metaphor?

I'd never heard that hard word from you before.

The metaphor of what he did to you?

He do? She said it!

He said, a smile on my face like a butterfly.

- Then? - I smiled when he said it.

Your smile is a rose ..

pole stuck, hit the water.

Your smile is the sudden wave of silver.

Then what are you doing?

I am speechless.

And he?

- What else did he say? - No, what did he do?

Artisan your post, in addition to his mouth, he also got two hands!

He never touched me.

He said he was happy to be close to a pure young woman.

Like being at the beach with white sea.

I like..

I like when you silent ..

as if you did not attend.

And you?

And he?

He looked at me, and then he stopped staring at my eyes ..

and began to see my hair ..

without words, as if he was thinking.

Enough, my son!

If a man has begun to touch you with words ..

soon he will use his hands.

There's nothing wrong with words.

Words are the worst things.

I prefer a drunkard in the tavern touching your ass ..

from someone who said, "Your smile flies like a butterfly"!

"Expansion" like a butterfly!

Flying, inflate, it was the same!

Look at you!

Just one touch of a finger you had already defended it tooth and nail.

Bibi wrong! He's polite.

If already in bed, it makes no difference ..

poet, priest, or a communist!

"Naked..

"You're as simple as a hand .."

"Smooth, curved, small .."

"Unanimous, clear".

"You striped months, notched apple".

"Naked, you are as thin as a grain of wheat".

"Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba".

"The vine and stars in your hair".

"Naked, you are truly extraordinary and yellow .."

"Like summer in a gilded church".

Good morning, Father.

I found this in her bra.

I want to ask Father to read it.

Now I will not let him out of the house.

So?

It's poetry.

Read it!

"Telanjang.."

Bunda Maria!

(Muttering in Spanish)

What does it look nets? Mario, I need an adjective.

Jala Jala .. what? Fish net?

Ya.

Email.

Email.

(Muttering in Spanish)

Very nice?

(Speaking in Spanish)

- Good morning, Ma'am. - Good morning.

- Did you .. - Yes.

Please sit down, ma'am.

No. These things are too serious to say sitting.

What is that?

It has been over a month ..

Mario Ruoppolo wandering kedaiku ..

and she seduce keponakannku.

- What did he say? - The metaphor.

Then?

The metaphor has been burning like an oven niece.

A man who just cashed fungus between his toes!

His legs are full of germs, his mouth full of spells.

Initially granted: "Your smile is like a butterfly".

But now he said: "part of the chest like a fire with two flames".

Do you think ..

the words just his imagination? Or it ..

Yes, I think she had her hand on my niece's body.

Read this. This she kept in her bra.

"Telanjang.."

"You're beautiful like .."

"Naked, you're soft like the nights on the island .."

"And stars in your hair .."

It's beautiful!

So she had seen my niece naked!

Oh, no, Mom!

Virtually no part in this poem that allows us to conclude so.

The poem was telling the truth.

My niece exactly as pictured bare the poem.

So, help me and told Mario Ruoppolo ..

a lot to learn on you ..

that he should not again see my nephew his life.

And tell him, if he break, I'll kill him.

- Clear? - Yes.

Good afternoon.

You're white as a bag of flour.

I look white outside, but inside I was red.

You're not going to be saved from the wrath of a widow with adjectives.

If he's being mean to me, he will be arrested.

He'll be out in a few hours.

He would say that he was defending himself.

She would say if you tried to take the virginity of their daughters ..

With a metaphor hissing like a dagger

sharp like a dog, like a torn hymen.

Poetry will leave a mark on her tongue injured ..

Nipple perawannya.

Poet François Villon was hung in a tree ..

and blood pouring from his neck like roses.

I do not care. He can do whatever he wants. I am ready.

Great! Unfortunately we do not have ..

a trio of guitarists who will ..

O poet and comrade ..

You are making me in trouble, you have to eject me.

You gave me books to read ..

You megajari me to wear not only the tongue to lick stamps.

One of you if now I fell in love.

No, it has nothing to do with me.

I gave my books ..

But I do not let you steal my poem.

You gave Beatrice the poem I wrote for Matilde.

Poetry does not belong to the author, but to the people who need them.

I appreciate the sentiment is very democratic.

Now go home and go to sleep.

You've got bags under your eyes, large and deep as soup bowls.

This is for you. Select Di Cosimo.

Two years ago, they also promise ..

water will flow on the island.

Two years ago, not Di Cosimo who promise you.

What is written on paper it is a guarantee, not a promise.

An oath, and God is my witness.

Hey, Mario!

Do not you interested in what I'm saying?

I will choose the communists.

What?

I will choose the communists.

I hear you're crazy about poetry.

I hear you're competing with Pablo Neruda.

But remember, poets can be very damaging society.

- How much are these shells? - For you, 300 lire.

If it costs that much, you should ensure there is a pearl inside.

- Give me a good price! - I'll give you the piece.

Fishermen already lose a lot.

She said 300 lire. Why did he have to give discounts?

I do not want to make a loss again. See you later.

Why do not you mind your own business?

I was just trying to help.

Mario...

as a boss, I have to order you to send a letter that has not terikirim.

Ya, ya, ya.

But you're still down because of the girl.

Beatrice now pretty ..

but 50 years from now he will be ugly like most women.

No, Beatrice will never be ugly.

"I keep the beauty of your eyes .."

"Hidden within me, dear Beatrice's happy."

What to do with Beatrice?

It's poetry.

Dante Alighieri...

No, Gabriele D'Annunzio, penyairku.

Poets wrote something for Beatrice?

I do not like.

Strange, I thought you appreciate a hymn to Beatrice.

thanks. See you later.

- Princess sleep .. - Good night.

Good night. Give the father of the beverage usually, and then make a well for me.

thanks.

Nephew more and more beautiful.

If you only knew how difficult keeping.

Young people today do not like it used to.

They have everything and want the moon.

I remember the deceased mother. I always tremble every time he spoke.

Good evening, Aunt. Good night sir.

Good night sir.

Beatrice!

Look for a swift witness, who was not a communist.

If Neruda does not believe in God, why does God believe in Neruda?

Will be a witness to what kind of him?

God never said a communist can not be a witness to the wedding.

If so, I will not get married.

You're more interested in Neruda as a witness in a matter of manjadikanku wife.

My dear..

Neruda was a Catholic.

I know he is a Catholic.

In Russia, communists eat babies. How could he be Catholic?

He did not look like it.

Neruda had a beautiful wife.

He lived with her and no children.

How do you explain that?

So according to Romo, Don Pablo eat their children?

Who knows?

My answer is, "No!". And it's for the good of you, too.

He inspired mempelaimu write disgusting things about nudity.

It's just poetry.

Not to mention the other.

He is not worthy of being witness to your happiness.

My wife said,

"I begged for my life to the Lord Jesus so he could see my son got a job .."

"Wife and child in his arms."

Unfortunately, he can not see it ..

because when God called him to come back ..

not to mention my job.

Today, from heaven, my wife would see that his son had made him happy ..

Because at least he has a wife and small jobs.

Although it was not the expected job my wife for my son ..

Congratulations, congratulations, Dad!

What are you doing, drinking wine?

Sorry, comrade, I forget. This just came for you.

thanks.

(Speaking in Spanish)

- Good news? - To the newlyweds!

With a clear heart ..

pure eyes ..

I celebrate your beauty ..

with blood ties to it soon ..

and draw you ..

when you lie down on a poem such as forest land, or in the surf.

In the fragrant mud, or in sea music.

Now..

I want to toast to my friend ..

Mario...

Really fun I could play a role, a bit ..

in happiness.

And lastly, I would like to say that on this special day ..

I received a very good news.

Status arrest us ..

was removed...

and so now me and Matilde ..

will return to the land of our much loved ..

Chili.

No, Don Pablo.

But tomorrow you will become unemployed.

No, no. I do not want anything.

I will miss you.

I will miss you.

But you will send news, right?

Certain.

Things change all the time in the country.

Today they let me back ..

Tomorrow something happens and I have to go again.

I'll leave some things here ..

if you could take care of me.

I'll tell you where to send it.

Maybe I will personally take him to Chile.

That's great.

You need this?

Ya.

thanks.

I discovered another poet who wrote about Beatrice ..

name D'Annunzio.

Yes, yes, I know.

So you can write one too.

Goodbye.

"Because this is not your flag" (poster Christian Democrats)

- What is wrong? - Look at this.

He was in Russia, giving an award.

In Russia? If around here, she might be stopping by.

He's a very busy man, Mario!

She got to meet people who do not she encountered during her exile.

And he's also very loved in Chile.

He will not have time to come here.

It's a good picture.

- a young poet, Milovan .. - Perkovic.

Awarded the poetry of the Maestro.

- Can I keep? - No.

I'll put it here with all the others.

You can see it anytime you want.

"Pilih Di Cosimo!"

"That will lead us to a new way!"

"Select On Cosimo! For the sake of a new life!"

"Demi pulau kita!"

Do people come here?

- Who? - Di Cosimo.

Ya.

Why are you smiling?

Di Cosimo has given us an easy fortune.

Is it true?

20 families will be coming here to work building a water channel.

Di Cosimo wanted to know what we can provide them with two meals a day?

And we can not.

We said yes. They'll be here two years.

- Without question me? - Just add it all up.

Money.

All you can think of was money.

Where will we put 20 families that?

If necessary, we will cook two or three times!

Well, if that is your desire.

No, you will not be able to go easily.

Are you ready to work in the kitchen, Mr. Husband?

In the kitchen?

Ya.

A toast to Beatrice, the prettiest woman here!

Mario!

See!

- What did he say? - He's in Paris.

"I really love Italy .."

"I live a happy life in complete solitude .."

"And among the simplest in the world".

"What is the most nostalgic thing for you?"

"Nostalgia is an emotion I could only addressed to my country .."

"But I will never forget .."

"Flawless run on the beach and among the rocks .."

"Small plants and flowers blossom .."

"In exactly the same composition with a big garden".

Proceed.

Already completed.

He did not call us.

Why should he mention us in an interview?

He's a poet. The poet speaks of nature ..

not about the people they meet.

Birds were already full and will fly away!

I figured she did not even remember what we face.

"Christian Democrat victory .."

"In every area".

"Party leaders noted with satisfaction".

Satisfaction!

They have yet to win.

What? They have mastered each region in Italy.

With such a small turnout, they can not do anything.

They won the battle, not winning the war.

So we will win the war?

Who else memangnya?

But we must fight, and we will fight!

It's the only way to break our chains and liberate yourself!

Yes, but here ..

if we decide our chain ..

then what can we do?

If Don Pablo could hear you, he would not agree.

Don Pablo. Don Pablo can not hear me.

Who knows where he is, and what was he doing?

Why face sullen?

Mr. Di Cosimo, this is a tragedy for us.

We bersabdar on the job two years.

We make plans, even owe.

I know, embarrassing leaving the job half finished ..

but we hope that will soon begin again.

Immediately? When?

I do not know.

Depends.

But I assure you will not be long.

By the way, I wanted to taste your cooking.

Depending on what?

The issues are complex company.

I do not know much about the company's problems ..

But I'm not crazy.

We all know that you selected ..

Work will be stopped.

Yeah, right.

The warm-blooded husband.

"If Don Pablo here ...

"Probably the elections will run better."

"Mario, there is something to tell you".

"Aku hamil".

"Benarkah?" "Ya".

- "Are you really pregnant?" - "Yes".

"We have to go from here".

"No one understands us here.

"They're all too ignorant".

"We'll go to Chile, so Pablito will be great there, breathe poetry".

"Pablito?"

"Do not you like it?"

"As the name Neruda. It will be a good omen for our children".

- Mario? - No. He was in front.

Mario, have you? There is a letter from Chile.

Please put it in my pocket.

- Open up! - Wait.

Mario Ruoppolo. This is the first letter I've ever received.

"Santiago, 15 Oktober 1953".

"Sincerely.."

"I ask you .."

"To send some belongings .."

"Tuan Pablo Neruda .."

"In the house once occupied .."

"selama.."

"Stay in Italy".

"Attached is the address .."

"dan daftar.."

"Objects referred to above".

"Secretary Secretary .. .."

"Pablo Neruda".

And you?

Not one word, also greeting, and he went more than a year ago.

I told you, the birds were satisfied, would fly and go!

Someone to be nice to others only if they are useful.

Do it again .. "Bird's already full."

And useful for what?

What have I done to this man?

In fact, I always ..

asking, "Don Pablo will you check this metaphor?"

"Don Pablo, will you read me a poem?"

I'm a person who bothered him.

And Aunt says I'm useless.

What have I done?

Moreover he knew that I was not a great poet.

He knows it, you know?

But at least he treats me like a friend.

Like brothers.

Not true if you say you're not good.

And I'm not going to call him Pablito.

What's wrong baby?

Why, do you think I'm a poet?

Am I a poet? Did I write something, a poem?

No, Mario, but ..

"No, Mario .." nothing.

Accept.

Why should he remember me?

As a poet, I'm not too good.

As a postman .. He will be hard to remember ..

postman to deliver the mail when he lived in Italy.

As a communist?

Especially about it. I really do not ..

I think ..

natural for him ..

Okay.

Tomorrow, we go there and send his stuff.

(Speaking in Spanish)

"I told them I was here with a friend who wanted to give the greeting".

"And tell them nice things about this wonderful country".

- "Tidak". - "Ya".

"Good morning".

"No, there".

"Good morning".

"The beautiful thing about this island?"

"Yes, one of the wonders of your island."

"Beatrice Russo".

(Speaking in Spanish)

You sure this machine can also live that out?

If it can be used inside, it will be used outside.

Here it can be.

One two Three. What red light lit?

Ya, menyala.

One.

Number one.

Ombak Cala di Sotto.

Small waves.

Proceed!

Number two.

Wave. Great.

Proceed!

Number three.

Wind on the cliffs.

Number four.

Wind in the bush.

Number five.

Jala who wistfully of my father.

Number six.

Our church bells ..

Bereavement Princess church ..

The following pastors.

Beautiful.

I never realized its beauty.

Number seven.

Starry sky above the island.

Number eight.

Pablito heart rate.

You can listen to anything!

Really?

Shhh!

Can you hear me!

You can hear the heartbeat Pablito!

I will not memanggilnyaPablito.

(Speaking in Spanish)

(Speaking in Spanish)

Pablito, come here!

I Pablito!

There was a communist demonstration.

Pablito never saw him.

He was born a few days after Mario died.

I do not want him to go, but she would not listen.

"Don Pablo would be proud," he said.

Riots, and police surged into the crowd.

He was trapped.

Mario made for you.

I should have sent it, but I actually keep it.

"Don Pablo's good .."

"Ini Mario".

"I hope you did not forget me".

"Baiklah.."

"Do you remember the time asking me .."

"Say something beautiful about my island .."

"And I can not think of any thing?"

"Sekarang.."

"I know".

"So I wanted to send you this tape .."

"Which, if you wish, you can play it for your friends."

"If not, you can hear it".

So you will remember me ..

and Italy.

When you stay here ..

I think you took away all the beautiful things with you.

But now..

I realized..

that you leave something for me.

"I also want to tell you that I wrote a poem .."

"But you can not hear it, because I am ashamed".

"It's called .. Song for Pablo Neruda".

"Although the poem about the sea .."

"I dedicate it to you".

"If you never came into my life .."

"I would never write".

"I was invited to read it in public".

"And even though I know my voice will shake, I'm happy".

"And you will hear people cheering hear your name."

"Mate!"

"Mate!"

"Now we invite to stage three workers .."

"Trunk Luigi, Mario Ruoppolo, dan Antonio De Marco".

"They are not here to make a speech, but read his poem".

"We call Mario Ruoppolo on stage .."

"Who dedicated his poem to .."

"Great poet that we all already know .."

"Pablo Neruda".

"Come on, give way for Mario Ruoppolo!"

Did you hear that?

Mario Ruoppolo.

She Mario Ruoppolo. Let him through.

Move aside.

We had to go to the stage.

"Mate!"

Mario, where are you?

Mario Ruoppolo!

"Kamerad, tenang!"

"Mundur!"

"Mate!"

And that's when poetry came looking for me. I do not know, I do not know where ..

he came, from winter or a river. I do not know..

how and why. No, it's not a sound, not words,

nor silent. But on the street I was summoned, from cecabang night,

among other tracks, between the fire burning,

or returning alone, there I was without a face,

and he touched. - Pablo Neruda

For our friend Massimo

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