"The best things about our island—
1st: Cala di Sotto's sound of waves, in a low voice;
Second: the sound of waves, loud;
Third: the wind on the cliff;
Fourth: the wind through the bushes;
Fifth: my father's sorrowful fishing net;
Sixth: The priest of the Church of Our Lady rings the bell of sorrow;
Seventh: the night sky full of stars on the island;
Eighth: (My unborn son) Pablito's heartbeat. "
This is the end of the movie, Mario recorded words and eight beautiful voices to the poet Neruda. Whenever I see this, I always cry. Simple, shy, and a little clumsy, Mario is often silent, and his voice is too small to murmur, but he is so real and lovely. When he was wearing a postman hat, drinking milk from a spoon, and talking to his father about his new job discreetly and smugly; When in love, say to yourself happily: "I don't want an antidote, I just want to be so sick" "I'm in love, really, really in love"... You will fall in love with this kind and natural person without a mask .
Luis Bakarov's soundtrack accompanies Mario on a country road to the poet's residence on a bicycle. Poetry ignited the enthusiasm of his life, poetry made him depend on the moon and get love, poetry made him firmly go to the podium of political gatherings, but also sleep forever at the feet of everyone.
It was letters filled with admiration and reverence for the poet that led to the encounter between Neruda and Mario, and poetry became the messenger of the communication and fusion between the poet's "divine" and the postman's "life": learning to write from the poet at the postman In the process of poetry, the two established a sincere and simple relationship; the poor postman, the joy of learning poetry, the fool in love... Mario, who was ashamed to express himself, had a poetic temperament, he frowned and asked: "The whole Is the world a metaphor for everything else?"
If Mario who took Neruda's poems for his lover wasn't a poet, then Mario who wrote Neruda's "The Best Things on Our Island" is a real poet. Neruda leaves, but poetry remains. I think I'll always like someone like that, sincere, simple and even a little clumsy. From his silly smile, you can hear: Cala di Sotto's waves, the wind on the cliffs, the wind through the bushes, my dad's sad fishing nets, the mournful bells tolling of the priest of the Church of Our Lady, the island Pablito's heart beat on the starry night sky. - "The best thing on our island".
Poetry leaves pure beauty and light of faith, but it also predestines poets to be exiled. In addition to Neruda, the list of exiles is still very long: Brodsky, Camus, Thomasman, Pamuk... These writers intend to use their own pens to paint the picture of the world and explore the life Black and white, building a lighthouse on the way for the world, but in this cold world, abandoned, ignored, misunderstood, hated, and incomprehensible, thus becoming forever strangers.
Is loneliness the fate of literature? That room called "Silence" may be our home. Pain and frustration? Now it has become a fine wine to drink by itself. Neruda said calmly as he packed up his documents: "The situation in my country is always changing. Today they let me go back, and tomorrow it may change again and I have to flee again."
Holding the poem in his arms and looking forward to the podium, Mario finally fell at the feet of the cold gun and the world. The music sounded, and the paper with the beautiful words floated in the wind to the white Italian coast, we, go home.
(The author of this article is Miao Qinger, reprinted from the WeChat public account "Xiao Lian Shuo")
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