Original subtitles

This is it.

You already have poetry.

If you want to write it, You can write it 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 go home. We will close.

- What are you doing? - I think.

With the window open?

Yes, with the window open.

Tell me frankly, what did he tell you?

Metaphor.

Metaphor?

I never heard a word as difficult as that from you before.

Metaphor what he did to you?

He did? He said it!

He said his smile widened 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 sudden silver waves.

Then what are you doing?

I paused.

And he?

- What else he said? - No, what does he do?

Your postman, besides his mouth, he also has two hands!

He never touched me.

She said she was happy to be at near pure young women.

Like being on the beach with the white ocean.

I like..

I like when you're quiet ..

as if you were absent.

And you?

And he?

He looked at me, then, he stopped looking me in the eye ..

and start looking at my hair ..

without words, as if he were thinking.

Enough, my son!

When the man has started touch you with words ..

soon he will use his hands.

Nothing wrong with words.

Words are the worst thing.

I prefer drunks in the tavern touching your ass ..

than someone who says, "Your smile flies like a butterfly"!

"Expanding" like a butterfly!

Flying, expanding, it's the same!

Look at you!

Just one touch of his finger only you've defended him to death.

Aunt is wrong! He's a decent man.

If it's in bed, no difference ..

poets, priests, or communist!

"Naked..

"you're as simple as that one of your hands .. "

"smooth, notched, small .."

"round, clear".

"You're striped moon, notched apples ".

"Naked, you're thin like grain ".

"Naked, you're blue like night in Cuba ".

"The vine and the stars in your hair ".

"Naked, you're incredible and yellow .. "

"like a summer in a gilded church ".

Good morning, Father.

I found this in his bh.

I want to ask Romo to read it.

Now I will not let him out of the house.

So?

It's a poem.

Please read it!

"Naked.."

The Virgin Mary!

(Mumbling in Spanish)

What does the net look like? Mario, I need an adjective.

What kind of net? Fishing nets?

Yes.

Sendu.

Sendu.

(Mumbling in Spanish)

Nice?

(Speaking in Spanish)

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

- Is your mother .. - Yes.

Please sit down, Mom.

No. This is too serious a thing for said while sitting.

What is that?

It's been over a month ..

Mario Ruoppolo wandering around in my head ..

and he seduced my niece.

- What did he say? - Metaphors.

Then?

The metaphor has burned my niece is like an oven.

A man with only capital mushrooms between his toes!

Her legs are full of germs, his mouth full of incantations.

Originally ordinary: "Your smile is like a butterfly".

But now he says: "Your bosom is like a fire with two flames".

Do you think

those words are just fantasy? Or is it ..

Yes, I think he's touched it his hand on my niece's body.

Read this. Here it is in the bh.

"Naked.."

"You're beautiful like .."

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

"and the stars in your hair .."

It's beautiful!

So he's seen my nephew is naked!

Oh, no, Mom!

There is no part in this poem makes us able to conclude so.

The poem tells the truth.

My nephew is naked exactly as the poem describes it.

So please help me and tell me to Mario Ruoppolo ..

which many learn on you ..

that he can no longer see my niece for the rest of her life.

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

- Obviously? - Yes.

Good afternoon.

You're white like a bag of flour.

Outside I look white, but inside me red.

You will not survive the wrath a widow with an adjective.

If he did evil to me, he will be imprisoned.

He will be out in a few hours.

She'll tell her defend himself.

He'll say if you try snatching the virginity of her daughter ..

With metaphors, hissing like a dagger

sharp as a dog, torn like a hymen.

Poetry will leave a mark on his injured tongue ..

on her virgin nipples.

Poet François Villon hung on a tree ..

and blood poured from his neck is like a rose.

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

Great! Too bad we are do not have..

guitarist trio that will ..

O poet and comrade ..

You made me get into trouble, You have to take me out.

You give me books to read ..

You teach me to use the tongue not just to lick stamps.

It's your fault I am now in love.

No, nothing to do with me.

I gave you my books ..

But I will not let you stealing my poems.

You give Beatrice a poem I wrote for Matilde.

Poetry does not belong to the author, but belongs to the person who needs it.

I appreciate that sentiment very democratic.

Now go home and sleep.

You have a bag under your eyes, big and deep like a bowl of soup.

This is for you. Select Di Cosimo.

Two years ago, they too promising ..

water will flow on the island.

Two years ago, no In Cosimo promising you.

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

An oath, and God is my witness.

Hey, Mario!

Are not you interested in what did i say?

I will vote for the communists.

What?

I will vote for the communists.

I heard you're crazy on poetry.

I heard you're competing with Pablo Neruda.

But remember, the poets can very damaging to society.

- What is the price of these shells? - For you, 300 lire.

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

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

Fishermen have lost much.

He said 300 lire. Why he should give you a discount?

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

Why do not you take care of it your own business?

I tried to help.

Mario ...

as a boss, I have to command you send a letter that has not been sent.

Yes, Yes, Yes.

But you're still gloomy because of the girl.

Beatrice is now beautiful ..

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

No, Beatrice would never be bad.

"I save the beauty of your eyes .."

"hidden inside me, happy Beatrice. "

What's his business with Beatrice?

That's poetry.

Dante Alighieri ...

No, Gabriele D'Annunzio, my poet.

Your poet wrote something to Beatrice?

I do not like.

Strange, I think you appreciate hymns to Beatrice.

thanks. See you later.

- Princess sleeping .. - Good night.

Good night. Give the father a drink usually, and make it for me too.

thanks.

Your niece is getting more and more beautiful.

If only you knew how difficulty keeping it up.

Young people are not as they used to be.

They have everything and want the moon.

I remember my late mother. I always tremble every time he speaks.

Good night, Auntie. Good night sir.

Good night sir.

Beatrice!

Seek appropriate witnesses, who is not a communist.

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

What kind of witness would he be?

God never said a communist can not be a witness to marriage.

Then I will not marry.

You're more interested in the matter of Neruda so witness than to make me your wife.

My dear..

Neruda is a Catholic.

I know he's a Catholic.

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

He does not look like that.

Neruda has a beautiful wife.

She lives with her and no children.

How do you explain it?

So according to Father, Don Pablo eat his children?

Who knows?

My answer, "No!". And that's for the sake your kindness too.

He inspires you to write nasty things about nudity.

It's just poetry.

Not to mention the others.

He is not worthy of being a witness your happiness.

My wife says,

"I beg to live on the Lord Jesus in order to see my son have a job .. "

"wife and child in his arms."

Unfortunately, he can not see it ..

because when God called him to return..

my son has not got a job yet.

Today, from heaven, my wife will see that his son has made him happy ..

Because at least he already has wife and small jobs.

Although that's not a job expected my wife for my son ..

Congratulations, congratulations, Father!

What are you doing, drinking wine?

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

thanks.

(Speaking in Spanish)

- Good news? - For newlyweds!

With a clear heart ..

pure eyes ..

I celebrate your beauty ..

with blood ties until he was present ..

and drawing you ..

when you lie on my poem like on forest land, or on the waves.

In the fragrant mud, or on marine music.

Now..

I want to toast to my friend ..

Mario ...

How fun I can be role, a little ..

in his happiness.

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

I received very good news.

Our detention status ..

was removed...

and therefore now me and Matilde ..

will return to the country which we love very much ..

Chile.

No, Don Pablo.

But tomorrow you will be unemployed.

No, no. I do not want anything.

I will miss you.

I will miss you.

But you will tell me right?

Certain.

Things change throughout time in my country.

Today they allow me back ..

Tomorrow something happens and I have to go again.

I'll leave some thing here ..

if you can keep it for me.

I'll tell you where must send it.

Maybe I myself will drove her to Chile.

That's great.

You need this?

Yes.

thanks.

I found another poet who wrote about Beatrice ..

her name is D'Annunzio.

Yes, yes, I know.

So you can write one too.

Goodbye.

"Because this is not your flag" (Christian Democrat Party poster)

- What is wrong? - Look at this.

He's in Russia, rewarding.

In Russia? If it's around here, he might stop by.

He's a very busy man, Mario!

He must meet people who are he did not meet as long as he was in exile.

And he is also well loved in Chile.

He will not have time to come here.

This is a great picture.

- Young poet, Milovan .. - Perkovic.

Received poetry award from the Maestro.

- Can I save it? - No.

I'll put it here with everything else.

You can see it whenever you want.

"Choose Di Cosimo!"

"That will take us to a new path! "

"Choose Di Cosimo! For the sake of new life! "

"For the sake of our island!"

Did the man come here?

- Who? - In Cosimo.

Yes.

Why are you smiling?

Di Cosimo has given us easy luck.

Is it true?

20 families will come here to work to build waterways.

At Cosimo wants to know what we can do providing them 2 meals a day?

And we can not.

We said we can. They will here 2 years.

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

Money.

All you can think about is money.

Where will we put the 20 families?

If necessary, we will cook two or three times!

All right, if that's what you want.

No, you will not get away easily.

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

In the kitchen?

Yes.

Toast to Beatrice, the prettiest women here!

Mario!

See!

- What's he saying? - He's in Paris.

"I really love Italy .."

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

"and among those who are simplest in the world ".

"What is the most nostalgic thing for you?"

"Nostalgia is the only emotion I can go to my country .. "

"but I'll never forget .."

"walking on the beach and among the rocks .. "

"small plants and flowers blooming.."

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

Continue.

Already completed.

He does not call us.

Why he should call us in an interview?

He's a poet. Poet talks about nature ..

not about those who are they meet.

Birds that are full will fly and go!

I guess he does not even remember our face like what.

"The Christian Democrats are reaching out victory.."

"in every region".

"The party leader stated satisfaction ".

His satisfaction!

They have not won yet.

What? They have mastered each region in Italy.

With such a small number of voters, they will not be able to do anything.

They won the battle, not winning the war.

So we will win the war?

Who else is it?

But we must fight, and we will fight!

It's the only way to decide our chains and break free!

Yes, but here ..

if we break our chain ..

then what can we do?

If only Don Pablo could hear you, he will not agree.

Don Pablo. Don Pablo can not hear me.

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

Why do your faces frown?

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

We are devoted to the two-year job.

We make plans, even indebtedness.

I know, embarrassing to leave semi-finished work ..

but we hope it will start again soon.

Soon? When?

I do not know.

It depends.

But I guarantee it will not be long.

Anyway, I want to hurry taste your cooking.

Depends on what?

Company issues very complicated.

I do not know much about company issues ..

But I'm not crazy.

We all know that You selected.

The work will stop.

Yes, right.

The husband is warm-blooded.

"If only Don Pablo here...

"maybe the election will run better."

"Mario, there's something you want I tell you ".

"I am pregnant".

"Is it true?" "Yes".

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

"We have to get out of here".

"Nobody understands us here.

"They are all too ignorant".

"We're going to Chile, so Pablito will be great there, breathe poetry ".

"Pablito?"

"Do not you like it?"

"Like the name of Neruda, it will be a good symbol for our children ".

- Mario? - No. He's up front.

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

Please put it in my pocket.

- Open it! - Wait.

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

"Santiago, October 15, 1953".

"With respect.."

"I ask you .."

"to submit some objects belong .. "

"Mr. Pablo Neruda .."

"the one in the house ever occupied .. "

"for.."

"living in Italy".

"Attached is the address .."

"and the list .."

"the objects mentioned above".

"Secretary .. Secretary .."

"Pablo Neruda".

And for you?

Not a word, nor a greeting, and he went over a year ago.

I told you, that bird satiety, will fly and go!

Someone is nice to people others only if they are useful.

Not that anymore .. "A full bird."

And useful for what?

What have I done for this guy?

In fact, always me ..

who asked, "Don Pablo will You checked this metaphor? "

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

I'm the one who bothered him.

And Bibi says I'm useful.

What have I done?

Besides he knows that I am not a good poet.

He knows that, you know?

But at least he treats I'm like a friend.

Like you.

Not true if you say you not good.

And I will not call him Pablito.

What's wrong with the baby?

Why, you think I'm a poet?

Am I a poet? Have not I write something, poetry?

No, Mario, but ..

"No, Mario .." nothing.

Accept.

Why should she remember me?

As a poet, I'm not very good.

As a postman .. He will hardly remember it ..

postman delivering his letters when he lived in Italy.

As a communist?

Especially about that. I really do not ..

I think ..

fair if he ..

OK.

Tomorrow, we go there and send his stuff.

(Speaking in Spanish)

"I told them I was here together a friend who wants to greet ".

"And tell them a good thing about this beautiful country ".

- "No". - "Yes".

"Good morning".

"No, there."

"Good morning".

"The beautiful thing about this island?"

"Yes, one of your wonders."

"Beatrice Russo".

(Speaking in Spanish)

You're sure this machine can, too live on the outside?

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

Here it can.

One two three. Is the red light on?

Yes, it's on.

One.

Number one.

Waves at Cala di Sotto.

Small waves.

Continue!

Number two.

Waves. Big.

Continue!

Number three.

Wind on the cliff.

Number four.

Wind between the bushes.

Number five.

My father's wretched net.

Number six.

Our church bells ..

The Church of the Grief Princess

following the priest.

Beautiful.

I never realized its beauty.

Number seven.

A star-studded sky above the island.

Number eight.

Pablito's heartbeat.

You can hear anything!

Really?

Shhh!

You can hear!

You can hear Pablito's heartbeat!

I will not call him Pablito.

(Speaking in Spanish)

(Speaking in Spanish)

Pablito, come here!

Pablito!

At that time there was a communist demostration.

Pablito never saw him.

He was born a few days after Mario died.

I do not want him to leave, but he will not listen.

"Don Pablo would be proud," he said.

There was rioting, and the police pushed into the crowd.

He's stuck.

This Mario created for you.

I should have sent it, but I keep it.

"Good Don Pablo .."

"It's Mario".

"I hope you do not forget me".

"OK.."

"You remember when asked me .."

"says something beautiful about my island .. "

"and I can not think any thing? "

"Now.."

"I know".

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

"which, if pleasing, you can play it for your friends ".

"If not, you can hear it own".

So you will remember me ..

and Italy.

When you stay here ..

I guess you took away all 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 will not be able to hear it, because I am ashamed ".

"The title .. The song for Pablo Neruda".

"Even though it's a poem about the sea .."

"I offer it for you".

"If you're never present in my life.."

"I will never write it".

"I was invited to read it in public".

"And though I know my voice will shaking, I am happy ".

"And you will hear people cheer hearing your name ".

"Comrade!"

"Comrade!"

"Now we invite to the stage three workers .. "

"Luigi Tronco, Mario Ruoppolo, and Antonio De Marco ".

"They are not here to make speeches, but read the poem ".

"We call Mario Ruoppolo to the stage .. "

"offering his poems for .. "

"the great poet we all are already know.."

"Pablo Neruda".

"Come on, give way to Mario Ruoppolo!"

Did you hear that?

Mario Ruoppolo.

He's Mario Ruoppolo. Let him pass.

Move out.

We have to go to the stage.

"Comrade!"

Mario, where are you?

Mario Ruoppolo!

"Comrades, calm down!"

"Back off!"

"Comrade!"

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

it comes, from winter or a river. I do not know..

how and why. Not, he is not a voice, not a word,

nor is it silent. But from the street I was called, from the night shade,

rushed among the others, in between the blazing fire,

or go back alone, there I am without face,

and he touched me. - Pablo Neruda

For our friend Massimo

Translator: Antariksa

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