Il Postino Page #4

who has learnt a lot from you...

that he must never see my niece

again for the rest of his life.

And tell him that if he does,

I'll shoot him.

- Is that clear?

- Yes.

Good day.

You're as white as a sack of flour.

I might be white outside,

but inside I'm red.

You won't save yourself

from the widow's fury with adjectives.

If she harms me, she'll go to jail.

She'll be out in a couple of hours.

She'll say she acted

out of self-defense.

She'll say you threatened

the virginity of her damsel:

with a metaphor

hissing like a dagger...

as sharp as a canine,

as lacerating as a hymen.

The poetry will have left

the mark of its seditious saliva...

on the virgin's nipples.

The poet Francois Villon

was hung from a tree for much less...

and his blood gushed

from his neck like roses.

I don't care. She can do

what she wants. I'm ready.

Good lad! It's a real shame

we haven't got...

a trio of guitarists to go...

My dear poet and comrade...

you got me into this mess,

you've got to get me out of it.

You gave me books to read...

you taught me to use my tongue

for more than licking stamps.

It's your fault if I'm in love.

No, this has nothing to do with me.

I gave you my books...

but I didn't authorize you

to steal my poems.

If you think you gave Beatrice

the poem I wrote for Matilde--

Poetry doesn't belong to those

who write it, but those who need it.

I appreciate that highly

democratic sentiment.

Now go home and get some sleep.

You've bags under your eyes

as large and deep as soup bowls.

This is for you.

Vote for Di Cosimo.

They promised us running water...

on the island two years ago, too.

Two years ago, it wasn't

Di Cosimo who promised you.

What's written on that paper

is a pledge, not a promise.

An oath, and God is my witness.

Hey, Mario!

Aren't you interested

in what I'm saying?

I'm voting communist.

What?

I'm voting communist.

I hear you've

gone crazy about poetry.

I hear you're competing

with Pablo Neruda.

But remember, poets can do

a lot of damage to people.

- How much do these clams cost?

- 300 lire to you.

For that price you'll have to

guarantee me a pearl in each one.

- Give me a good price.

- I'll give you a discount, all right?

Fishermen are exploited

enough as it is.

He said 300 lire.

Why shouId he give you a discount?

I don't mean to exploit anyone.

Good-bye.

Why don't you mind

your own business?

I was trying to help.

Mario...

as your superior I must order you

to deliver the undelivered mail.

Yes, yes, yes.

But you're still

moping after that girl.

Beatrice is pretty now...

but in 50 years

she'll be as ugly as the rest.

Beatrice will never be ugly.

I held the splendor of your eyes...

secretly within me,

blissfuI Beatrice.

What's Beatrice got to do with it?

It's a poem.

Dante Alighieri--

No, Gabriele D'Annunzio, my poet.

Your poet wrote something

for Beatrice?

I don't llke it.

Strange, I thought you'd

appreciate a hymn to Beatrice.

Thank you. Good-bye.

- Sleeping Beauty...

- Good evening.

Good evening. Give the Marshal

his usual, and pour one for me, too.

Thank you.

Your niece gets

more and more beautiful.

If you only knew how difficult

it is to keep a hold on her.

Young people today

aren't what they used to be.

They have everything

and want the moon.

I remember my poor departed mother.

I'd tremble whenever she spoke.

Good night, Aunt.

Good night, Marshal.

Good night, Marshal.

Find yourselves a decent person

who isn't a communist.

If Neruda doesn't believe in God,

why should God believe in Neruda?

What sort of witness would he be?

God never said a communist

can't be a witness at a wedding.

I'm not getting married then.

You're more interested in Neruda

as a witness than me as your wife.

My darling...

Neruda's a Catholic.

I know he's a Catholic.

In Russia, communists eat babies.

How can he be Catholic?

He doesn't look the type.

Neruda has a pretty wife.

He's getting on

and he has no children.

How do you explain that?

So according to you,

Don Pablo ate his kids?

Who knows?

Anyway, my answer's no,

for your sake, too.

He inspired your bridegroom

to write that filthy naked stuff.

That was only a poem.

Not to mention the rest.

He's not worthy of being witness

to your happiness.

She'd say:

''I ask Jesus to let me live

to see my son with a job...

a wife and children in his arms.''

UnfortunateIy, she didn't make it...

because when the Lord

called her to Him...

he didn't even have a job.

Today, from heaven my poor wife

will see that he's made her happy...

because at least he's got

a wife and a little job.

Even if it's not the job

she'd have wanted for him--

All the best!

Well done, Dad!

What are you doing, drinking wine?

I'm sorry, Comrade, I forgot.

This came for you.

Thank you.

- Good news?

- To the newlyweds!

With a chaste heart...

with pure eyes...

I celebrate your beauty...

hoIding the leash of blood

so that it might leap out...

and trace your outllne...

where you lie down in my ode

as in a land of forests, or in a surf:

in aromatic loam or in sea music.

Now...

I'd like to toast my friend...

Mario...

and say what a pleasure it was for me

to participate, in a small way...

to his happiness.

And lastly, I'd like to say

that on this very special day...

I have received

some wonderfuI news.

The warrant for our arrest...

has been revoked...

and therefore

Matilde and I can now...

return to the country

we love so much:

Chile.

No, Don Pablo.

But you'll be unemployed tomorrow.

No, I don't want anything.

I'll miss you.

I'll miss you.

But you will write to me?

Of course.

Things change

all the time in my country.

Today they'll let me go back.

Tomorrow something else will happen

and I'll have to flee again.

I'll leave some things

here anyway...

if you couId keep

an eye on it for me.

I'll let you know where to send them.

Perhaps I'll bring them

to Chile myseIf.

That'd be wonderful.

Do you need this?

Yes.

Thank you.

I've discovered another poet

who wrote about Beatrice...

called D'Annunzio.

I know.

So you could have written one, too.

Good-bye.

- What is it?

- Look at this.

He's in Russia, giving an award.

In Russia? If he's over here,

he might pay a visit.

He's a very busy man, Mario!

He must meet the people

he didn't see when he was in exile.

And he's also well-loved in Chile.

He won't have time to come here.

It's a good picture.

- The young poet, Mllovan--

- Perkovic.

Awarded a poetry prize

by the maestro.

- Can I keep it?

- No, you can't.

I'll put it in here

with all the rest.

You can look at it

whenever you like.

Vote for Di Cosimo.

The candidate promises

to lead us on a new path!

Vote for Di Cosimo!

For a new way of life!

For the sake of our island!

Did that fellow come here?

- Who?

- Di Cosimo.

Yes.

Why are you smiling?

Di Cosimo has served us

a fortune on a silver platter.

Really?

to work on the new water mains.

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