Original subtitles

To be alive is to weave a history

between a principle that does not remember

and a end which nothing is known.

All histories have a beginning.

The beginning of mine disappears in the limb

I, like all, am lost the memory of my birth.

I was born the day in which my mother brought me to the world.

Or the night in which my parents loved themselves.

And before that moment...

...where it was what a day would be united to become me?

Where that galaxy was dispersed...

...of thousand and thousand tens of million atoms...

...that it was going to become me?

To what it plants, what stone...

...what animal, what face emigrated before being in me?

And before, even, of which it appeared the life...

...before, even, of which the Earth formed from the star dust...

...where they were?

Where they were the pieces of that puzzle?

Something of which existed already a day would become me...

...in the origin of the origins...

..when the universe left the emptiness suddenly?

My history is confused with the history of the universe.

At the beginning of the principles, in the origin of the origins...

there was nothing.

I cannot say "in that time", because the time did not exist.

I cannot say "in that country", because the space did not exist.

Only the nothing.

Dark, blacker than one night without moon.

Quieter than a tomb.

Emptier than the bottom of the desert.

Suddenly

that emptiness gives to light a very small egg of energy and matter.

It is the birth of the space and the time.

The universe new born dilates at full speed.

It is swollen like a gigantic pumpkin.

First, the mass of the universe is smooth and uniform.

Later they appear the first clusters,

simple gas clouds that are transformed into the galaxies.

In those galaxies the stars are born.

Ardent boilers where all the atoms form...

...that they compose our world.

Those very small grains of matter disperse like the dust to the wind...

...and they seed the space.

The atoms that will form clouds...

...the mountains...

...the butterflies, the tigers...

...the flowers and us.

And many more things than we could mention.

In a corner of the universe...

...like a milk cloud in the dark of the emptiness...

...the Milky Way forms.

A breeding ground of three billion stars.

In a remote suburb of this galaxy

the planet Earth is born.

... of the lost rest by a new star:

... the Sun.

the young Earth burns like a plate just left the furnace.

At first, the Earth is not earth.

It is only fire.

It is the planet Fire.

Now, the fused rocks have cooled off...

...and the steam of the sky is spilled as a deluge on the Earth

...creating the seas.

Rain continues during million years

The planet fire becomes the planet Sea.

But the water of that deluge, that has filled all oceans...

...and it makes flow the rivers on the still smoky Earth...

...it is not a body like the others.

It is a chaos without able form of all the forms.

It is the universal mortar,

the sauce that allows all the mixtures that favor any combination.

Thanks to this elixir,

the matter follows a risky way on the Earth.

In these small crucibles warmed up by the sun...

a species of hot substance forms

the essence of our origins.

The matter tries a new form of existence...

that the destructive power of the time resists.

Very small bubbles closed folded on themselves,...

...that they invent the interior and the outside...

...as if were closed worlds,...

...smaller than grain of sand.

They are the first buds of the life.

If you drop a drop of milk in the water...

...you will see appear regular forms for a moment that they seem alive.

But that is not life.

The form disperse progressively...

...and it is dragged by the chaos.

The smoke even knows to create forms...

...that they vanish as fast as they have been born.

The life is a form that lasts.

A form in fight against the time.

A form that lasts in spite of the universal law...

... which it pushes any thing organized towards the disorder...

... towards the chaos.

And, stranger still...

... a form that remains similar to itself...

while the matter of which it is done renews incessantly.

My mouth, my language, these lips that speak to you...

they have changed cont�nuamente its cells since my life began.

Hourly of the day thousands of million of them die

and they are replaced in my body.

Nevertheless, I continue being I...

... as the river continues being river...

although by its bed always new water flows.

We are not beings done of matter...

... we are irrigated forms of matter...

... alive rivers...

that they draw up its winding course in the immensity of the time.

And the life is an eddy that sustains its own movement...

... time and time again.

The life had all ocean for himself.

And during three billion years it was satisfied.

But for a sheep...

...the grass always seems much more green outside the surrounded one.

And beyond the borders...

... the virgin world of emerged earth extended.

It was as well as the fish...

... they adapted quickly to the terrestrial paradise...

... and the animals with legs were born.

The then Earth was covered with creatures.

And million of claws, nails and hooves...

... they flooded the ground of the continents.

In the water dance with agility...

... in a fluid that surrounds to you and it drags to you.

To venture itself to mainland is to change of planet,

the dance finishes, is necessary to walk.

And the gravity is cruel.

The body becomes heavy, very heavy

It is the leg with its bony structure the one that maintains it like an alive pillar.

The world is a great labyrinth...

... full of mysteries and dangers.

Lost in this immensity...

... each being draws up his an invisible border around.

Within that magical circle...

... in this familiar space which it knows each corner...

... one feels safe.

If a stranger crosses east limit...

... the moment arrives from the combat.

The life has begun fragile as it foams...

... and one unfolds on the continents...

... spilling itself like the milk of a boiling pot.

One plus one equals to three.

The life has a strange form to make its accounts.

It is as well as it generates crowds and it makes multitudes.

But before being three, one must be united to one.

Like two opposed poles...

the foam small barren islands are attracted and they are based the one with the other.

Thus the love was born.

All we have been born of the love.

We have been born of this rule of the game of the life...

... that it requires that two are united to do third.

Each one has only half of which it is necessary

... to create to another one.

And only there is an average one to approach half.

To seduce it.

The seduction is a force that acts at a distance.

Like the attraction of the bodies

It is a powerful call...

... pressing.

Desire, my beautiful desire, you are corresponded?

One has never seen that the beauty harmonizes with the impatience.

In the love, the way that winds is always shortest.

When the lovers know themselves, they celebrate its encounter dancing.

When the lovers accept themselves, they are embraced closely...

... as the fire is mixed with the smoke.

When in the dance of the love many gentleman concentrate themselves...

... a dispute comes near.

When the lovers are united... �ahhh!...

When the lovers are united...

It is the love that removed me from anything.

And soon I had two lives.

One, the one that I lived in the belly of my mother.

And the other, the one that I have lived in this world.

From the moment at which I was conceived until to be born...

... I lived a reduced version on the history of the Genesis(beginning).

In the beginning, it was an aquatic creature.

Water stock-market replaced the primitive sea of the beginning of the world.

At that time, at which hardly a kidney bean was as large as...

... it had a surprising similarity with the animals.

At that time, at which our bodies are modeled little by little...

..we seem all, like binoculars.

Because we are like water spurt that comes from same source.

Like the ribbings of a same leaf...

... the branches of a same tree.

We are members of the same tribe.

The great tribe of the alive ones.

So I was partly fish and partly frog...

... when still I lived in the belly of my mother.

With gills in the neck...

... and fins in the flanks.

Floating between two waters in my soft and flexible aquarium.

Each being is constructed cell after cell.

Like a great town, with its streets and their districts...

... while it annoys tom-tom of the heart.

And the veins draw up in the body the same figures that the Earth rivers.

The matter tends to the chaos as the river tends to the sea.

The alive beings we are like canoes, fighting against the current of the time.

We make traps with time.

But he only knows a way, only follows a slope:...

... the one that takes to the degradation.

We preserved our form alive beings destroying other alive beings.

Our existence is always the result of the depredation.

Because the life is canibal, the life devours to the life.

Everything what begins, must finish.

But, why it would serve the time?

Who has seen that a river overcomes until its origin?

Or that a chick returns to its egg?

The all-consuming fire always finishes losing the appetite and extinguishes itself.

The raised mountain finishes kneeling down and extending like a plain.

And the life... The life the other way around takes the law from the time.

It is constructed, it grown and it embellished...

... in a world where everything hurries to a great disorder.

It flees from the calm and the disquiet, the inanimate thing.

And it advances decidedly....

... like an acrobat on the loose cord...

rejecting to settle up.

But we cannot flee eternally from the passage of time.

It is prohibited.

One day my body will break off the battle...

... and it will give back to the world the matter of which is done.

This galaxy of thousands of million atoms that I am...

will die as the stars die, seeding the space with its matter.

All the atoms that came to dance in me, will do it in another body.

Three returns, three returns, and soon will go away.

And they will create the wings of a butterfly...

... the trunk of a tree...

... the plume of a cloud...

or the hair of an animal.

And I will leave my song there so that others sing it to their way.