Growing a Beard

- Poetry doesn’t belong to those who write it; it belongs to those who need it.

The other night I watched the movie Il Postino which is about a simple Italian man meeting the great Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Set in an Italian village and with a great soundtrack, it makes a great choice for any occasion. This is probably one of the best movies I’ve seen and one of the few ones that truly made me laugh.
Watching the extra material on the DVD we found out that the main actor Massimo Troisi, playing the part of the mailman Mario Ruoppolo, past away in a heart attack just 12 hours after finishing shooting the movie at the age of 41. Massimo was in a bad condition during the entire duration of the shooting according to the director Michael Radford, but had been postponing a crucial heart surgery to complete the film. He truly made an impression on me and I really look forward to see other movies with Mario, especially Non Ci Resta Che Piangere (Nothing Left to Do But Cry) with Roberto Benigni.

Hearing the poems of Pablo Neruda in the movie got me interested in to read more of his poetry. Two fun, but very important facts:
1) Neruda was cited in The Simpsons, episode “Bart Sells His Life”:
- Lisa: Hmm. Pablo Neruda said, “Laughter is the language of the soul.”
- Bart: I am familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda.
2) When Che Guevara was captured in Bolivia one of the few things in his possession was a book of poetry by Neruda.

Below is a poem by Neruda called ‘If You Forget Me’:

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 29th, 2006 at 23:22 and is filed under Movies. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.