dimarts, 24 de juny de 2008
I feel certain, that I'm going mad again.
I think we can't go through another of these terrible times and I shan't recover this time.
I begin to hear voices and can't concentrate.
So I'm doing what seems the best thing to do...
You have given me the greatest possible happiness.
You have been in every way all that anyone could be.
I know that I'm spoiling your life
and without me you could work
and you will. I know.
You see I can't even write this properly...
What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you.
You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good.
Everything is gone for me, but the certainty of your goodness.
I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.
I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.
She's going to die.
That's what's going to happen.
She'll kill herself.
She'll kill herself over something which doesn't seem to matter.
- Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.
- And who will die? Tell me.
- The poet will die. The visionary.
It would be wonderful to say you regret it.
It would be easy...
But what does it mean?
What does it mean to regret when you have no choice?
It's what you can bare.
There it is...no one is going to forgive me.
It was death...
I chose life.
to look life in the face,
always... to look life in the face...
and to know it... for what it is...
at last to know it...
to love it... for what it is...
to put it away.
always the years between us
always the years...
always the love...
always the hours...