WEBVTT

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Yay!

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I'm here with you.

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[LAUGHTER]

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[CLAPPING]

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So this one starts out--

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and it's written in 1956,
it's dated on the first page.

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And then there's a line to
Matilde, his last wife--

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in my translation,
it's, "you're not

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made of dreams, beloved love.

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And held to the light, you're
like an agrarian grape."

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That's an uva agraria.

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[LAUGHTER]

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Might have been sexy
at first, but then he

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realized, that's a bad
line, and he crossed it out.

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And then he starts
again and writes--

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"Never alone with you, over the
earth, crossing through fire.

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Never alone with you, in
the forests, finding again

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dawn's stiff arrow, the
tender moss of spring.

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With you in my
struggle-- not the one

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I chose, but the only one.

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With you, through
the streets and sand.

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With you, my love,
my exhaustion.

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The bread, the wine, poverty
and glint of one coin.

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Wounds, sorrow, happiness--
all the light, shadows, stars.

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All the cut wheat, the
corollas of giant sunflowers,

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defeated by their very fullness.

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The cormorants flight nailed to
the sky like a coastline cross.

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All the space-- the
autumn, the carnations--

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never alone.

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With you, never alone.

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With you, earth.

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With you, the sea.

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My life, all I am, all I
give, and everything I sing--

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the substance of this love, the
earth, the sea bred a life."

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