“Dear sir
I allow myself to send these papers, which may interest you, and that i could not make public until now.
All the original of these verses are in my possession. They are written in the most diverse of places, trains, planes, cafès, and on little bits of paper with almost no corrections.
Many of those aren’t readable, so crushed and cut they are: but i believe i have managed to decipher them. Who am i is of no import, but i am the main character of this book, and this makes me proud and satisfied of my life.
This love, this great love, was born in august, in a year like the others. He was coming back from the war in spain. No, he hadn’t won. (…)
I called him simply My Captain.
His verse was like him, tender, loving, passionate and terrible in his wrath. He was a man privileged, of those who are born to great destiny. I felt his power, and my greatest pleasure was to feel small next to him.
He entered my life, like he himself says in a verse, by kicking the door down. He did not knock with the shyness of a lover. He was the master of my body and soul from the first moment. He made me feel that everything was changing in my life, my little confortable artist’s life, was changed as was everything he touched. He did not know small feelings, nor he accepted them. He gave me his love, with all the passion he could muster, and i loved him as i never believed i was capable of loving. (….) this love brought me everything. He could not love any other way.
I do not know whether Gord reads love poetry, i’m pretty sure he does not write any!
But i found this at the foot of his library, fell from a shelf after this night’s rolling. This is the opening, in spanish. I can’t read, so you can read it if you wish. But put it back later! They say the captain has a wife waiting for him in Spicia. Maybe these soppy poems he uses for inspiration to get her to pardon him for something? Something like having been away for years, maybe.
Have a nice read, you romantic folks!
Ortica