Original subtitles

This is it.

You've got poetry.

If you want to write, you can write this in your book.

thanks.

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Beatrice!

What is wrong?

Go home. It's time to close.

You do not have to pay for your drink, but returned. We will cover.

- What are you doing? - I reflected.

With the window open?

Yes, with the window open.

Frankly tell me, what did he say to you?

Metaphor.

Metaphor?

I'd never heard that hard word from you before.

The metaphor of what he did to you?

He do? She said it!

He said, a smile on my face like a butterfly.

- Then? - I smiled when he said it.

Your smile is a rose ..

pole stuck, hit the water.

Your smile is the sudden wave of silver.

Then what are you doing?

I am speechless.

And he?

- What else did he say? - No, what did he do?

Artisan your post, in addition to his mouth, he also got two hands!

He never touched me.

He said he was happy to be close to a pure young woman.

Like being at the beach with white sea.

I like..

I like when you silent ..

as if you did not attend.

And you?

And he?

He looked at me, and then he stopped staring at my eyes ..

and began to see my hair ..

without words, as if he was thinking.

Enough, my son!

If a man has begun to touch you with words ..

soon he will use his hands.

There's nothing wrong with words.

Words are the worst things.

I prefer a drunkard in the tavern touching your ass ..

from someone who said, "Your smile flies like a butterfly"!

"Expansion" like a butterfly!

Flying, inflate, it was the same!

Look at you!

Just one touch of a finger you had already defended it tooth and nail.

Bibi wrong! He's polite.

If already in bed, it makes no difference ..

poet, priest, or a communist!

"Naked..

"You're as simple as a hand .."

"Smooth, curved, small .."

"Unanimous, clear".

"You striped months, notched apple".

"Naked, you are as thin as a grain of wheat".

"Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba".

"The vine and stars in your hair".

"Naked, you are truly extraordinary and yellow .."

"Like summer in a gilded church".

Good morning, Father.

I found this in her bra.

I want to ask Father to read it.

Now I will not let him out of the house.

So?

It's poetry.

Read it!

"Telanjang.."

Bunda Maria!

(Muttering in Spanish)

What does it look nets? Mario, I need an adjective.

Jala Jala .. what? Fish net?

Ya.

Email.

Email.

(Muttering in Spanish)

Very nice?

(Speaking in Spanish)

- Good morning, Ma'am. - Good morning.

- Did you .. - Yes.

Please sit down, ma'am.

No. These things are too serious to say sitting.

What is that?

It has been over a month ..

Mario Ruoppolo wandering kedaiku ..

and she seduce keponakannku.

- What did he say? - The metaphor.

Then?

The metaphor has been burning like an oven niece.

A man who just cashed fungus between his toes!

His legs are full of germs, his mouth full of spells.

Initially granted: "Your smile is like a butterfly".

But now he said: "part of the chest like a fire with two flames".

Do you think ..

the words just his imagination? Or it ..

Yes, I think she had her hand on my niece's body.

Read this. This she kept in her bra.

"Telanjang.."

"You're beautiful like .."

"Naked, you're soft like the nights on the island .."

"And stars in your hair .."

It's beautiful!

So she had seen my niece naked!

Oh, no, Mom!

Virtually no part in this poem that allows us to conclude so.

The poem was telling the truth.

My niece exactly as pictured bare the poem.

So, help me and told Mario Ruoppolo ..

a lot to learn on you ..

that he should not again see my nephew his life.

And tell him, if he break, I'll kill him.

- Clear? - Yes.

Good afternoon.

You're white as a bag of flour.

I look white outside, but inside I was red.

You're not going to be saved from the wrath of a widow with adjectives.

If he's being mean to me, he will be arrested.

He'll be out in a few hours.

He would say that he was defending himself.

She would say if you tried to take the virginity of their daughters ..

With a metaphor hissing like a dagger

sharp like a dog, like a torn hymen.

Poetry will leave a mark on her tongue injured ..

Nipple perawannya.

Poet François Villon was hung in a tree ..

and blood pouring from his neck like roses.

I do not care. He can do whatever he wants. I am ready.

Great! Unfortunately we do not have ..

a trio of guitarists who will ..

O poet and comrade ..

You are making me in trouble, you have to eject me.

You gave me books to read ..

You megajari me to wear not only the tongue to lick stamps.

One of you if now I fell in love.

No, it has nothing to do with me.

I gave my books ..

But I do not let you steal my poem.

You gave Beatrice the poem I wrote for Matilde.

Poetry does not belong to the author, but to the people who need them.

I appreciate the sentiment is very democratic.

Now go home and go to sleep.

You've got bags under your eyes, large and deep as soup bowls.

This is for you. Select Di Cosimo.

Two years ago, they also promise ..

water will flow on the island.

Two years ago, not Di Cosimo who promise you.

What is written on paper it is a guarantee, not a promise.

An oath, and God is my witness.

Hey, Mario!

Do not you interested in what I'm saying?

I will choose the communists.

What?

I will choose the communists.

I hear you're crazy about poetry.

I hear you're competing with Pablo Neruda.

But remember, poets can be very damaging society.

- How much are these shells? - For you, 300 lire.

If it costs that much, you should ensure there is a pearl inside.

- Give me a good price! - I'll give you the piece.

Fishermen already lose a lot.

She said 300 lire. Why did he have to give discounts?

I do not want to make a loss again. See you later.

Why do not you mind your own business?

I was just trying to help.

Mario...

as a boss, I have to order you to send a letter that has not terikirim.

Ya, ya, ya.

But you're still down because of the girl.

Beatrice now pretty ..

but 50 years from now he will be ugly like most women.

No, Beatrice will never be ugly.

"I keep the beauty of your eyes .."

"Hidden within me, dear Beatrice's happy."

What to do with Beatrice?

It's poetry.

Dante Alighieri...

No, Gabriele D'Annunzio, penyairku.

Poets wrote something for Beatrice?

I do not like.

Strange, I thought you appreciate a hymn to Beatrice.

thanks. See you later.

- Princess sleep .. - Good night.

Good night. Give the father of the beverage usually, and then make a well for me.

thanks.

Nephew more and more beautiful.

If you only knew how difficult keeping.

Young people today do not like it used to.

They have everything and want the moon.

I remember the deceased mother. I always tremble every time he spoke.

Good evening, Aunt. Good night sir.

Good night sir.

Beatrice!

Look for a swift witness, who was not a communist.

If Neruda does not believe in God, why does God believe in Neruda?

Will be a witness to what kind of him?

God never said a communist can not be a witness to the wedding.

If so, I will not get married.

You're more interested in Neruda as a witness in a matter of manjadikanku wife.

My dear..

Neruda was a Catholic.

I know he is a Catholic.

In Russia, communists eat babies. How could he be Catholic?

He did not look like it.

Neruda had a beautiful wife.

He lived with her and no children.

How do you explain that?

So according to Romo, Don Pablo eat their children?

Who knows?

My answer is, "No!". And it's for the good of you, too.

He inspired mempelaimu write disgusting things about nudity.

It's just poetry.