Translation
Title: Beneath Another Sky
Dedicated to all concentric souls of atemporality.
Introduction:
Its hard. Life is full of ambiguities: time passes without hesitation, but sometimes it stops and I don´t know where it stays. It stays in the moments. Well perhaps in the persons.
If the bug stays in the ambergris does it dies? If it lives, does it becomes part of the stone´s immortality?
Suddenly we die, and forever we remain alive. I can say then, that life traps us under the succulent temporality without us knowing. We only see parts of it. We feel its complexity but never really see it.
It would be easier to follow every line seeing the hand completely, “ there goes the love, fortune, life…” But very often we suffer, when, without knowing why, the path suffers in itself a line that suddenly losses itself in the way, also sometimes we only feel that they intertwine of a sudden…
In ancient times one din´t lose sight of those things. Live and death were prepared, they were transcended, they were antagonised, one died giving life to death, by painting it.
It was exiting to think that life could be filled with ambiguities.
Narration:
Grandma adorns her wrinkles with her smile and gaze too clear for the opaque vitality of her body. Her spirit is still dancing in its summit, like a sun at an afternoon.
The springs of her years enhanced the perfume of her heart, quite auric and silverly by all the bright stars that illuminated her fourth thirds of a century during all her chanted nights.
When she laughs, her smile move all the flowers, they shudder with the innocent serenity that still keeps under that rugose countenance that has enthralled so much behind those rays of skin.
And under those eyes the lavender shades keep hanging those unflinching dreams of heroic fights which keeps alive the fire some missing youth that once oceans burned.
And just as the sun sees the moon, she looks in love at Grandpa, who with the presence of an elephant and its ivory, poses himself in the fountains of patience and perseverance in oder to give time the effervesces of our days.
With his white skin and green eyes, he gives the impression of the jades of a distant land, they give the same curiosity which they enhance, his freshness seems to remain undaunted, that on which seems to characterise the young infant that with extraneous serenity constrains himself for the world but conserves at the same time the yearning of sensibility that gives flight to the most gigantic and tempestuous feelings beneath an appeased gaze…
Both, he and she see life, and life sees them. Like two tomes of a same book they travel, speak and plant it. An in the imagination, the buds of the passions that can only be seen in the eyes and the buds of the pains that can only be cast into tears, they blossom in sighs and winks into the light that time delivered to them beneath another sky.
And just as the sun sees the moon, she looks in love at Grandpa, who seems to characterise the young infant that with extraneous serenity constrains himself for the world but conserves at the same time the yearning of sensibility that gives flight to the most gigantic and tempestuous feelings beneath an appeased gaze…
Both, he and she see life, and life sees them. Like two tomes of a same book they travel, speak and plant it. An in the imagination, the buds of the passions that can only be seen in the eyes and the buds of the pains that can only be cast into tears, they blossom in sighs and winks into the light that time delivered to them beneath another sky.
Both, he and she see life, and life sees them. Like two tomes of a same book they travel, speak and plant it. An in the imagination, the buds of the passions that can only be seen in the eyes and the buds of the pains that can only be cast into tears, they blossom in sighs and winks into the light that time delivered to them beneath another sky.
The shortened version is presented in the film opening, the dialogue goes as follows:
Suddenly we die, and forever we remain alive. I can say then, that life traps us under the succulent temporality without us knowing. We only see parts of it. We feel its complexity but never really see it.
It would be easier to follow every line seeing the hand completely, “ there goes the love, fortune, life…” But very often we suffer, when, without knowing why, the path suffers in itself a line that suddenly losses itself in the way, also sometimes we only feel that they intertwine of a sudden…
Its hard. Life is full of ambiguities: time passes without hesitation, but sometimes it stops and I don´t know where it stays. It stays in the moments. Well perhaps in the persons.
Suddenly we die, and forever we remain alive. I can say then, that life traps us under the succulent temporality without us knowing. We only see parts of it. We feel its complexity but never really see it.
It would be easier to follow every line seeing the hand completely, “ there goes the love, fortune, life…” But very often we suffer, when, without knowing why, the path suffers in itself a line that suddenly losses itself in the way, also sometimes we only feel that they intertwine of a sudden…
Grandma adorns her wrinkles with her smile and gaze too clear for the opaque vitality of her body. Her spirit is still dancing in its summit, like a sun at an afternoon.
The springs of her years enhanced the perfume of her heart, quite auric and silverly by all the bright stars that illuminated her fourth thirds of a century during all her chanted nights.
And just as the sun sees the moon, she looks in love at Grandpa, who seems to characterise the young infant that with extraneous serenity constrains himself for the world but conserves at the same time the yearning of sensibility that gives flight to the most gigantic and tempestuous feelings beneath an appeased gaze…
Both, he and she see life, and life sees them. Like two tomes of a same book they travel, speak and plant it. An in the imagination, the buds of the passions that can only be seen in the eyes and the buds of the pains that can only be cast into tears, they blossom in sighs and winks into the light that time delivered to them beneath another sky.
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