 I'm going to be reading from a book by Antonio S. Carmetan, he's a Chilean writer. The title of the book is Burning Patience. And it was originally written in Spanish, obviously. And this book was a challenge in, as a required reading in freshman English class in Orono, Maine, high school, because of the book's sexual content. And this book was made into the movie The Postman. And probably, Daniel, you saw it. Neil Postino was a very good movie, too. So I'm going to read the section in English first and then the little section of the text in Spanish so you can get a sense of what it was like in the original version. In this pleasant decor and after months of conscious effort, The Postman with the help of his sensitive sunny, which was the tape recorded that Pablo Neruda gave to The Postman for his wedding. Tape the following text, transcribed here, just as Neruda heard it two weeks later in his office in Paris. Dear Don Pablo, thank you very much for the present and the letter, even though the letter, all by itself, would have been enough to make us all very happy. But the sunny is very good and interesting. And I'm using it to make up poems by sending them directly into the machine without even writing them down. Nothing great so far. It took me a while to do what you asked me because right now, things are pretty tough around here in Isla Negra. They built a campsite for vacationing workers and I'm working in the kitchen of the tavern. Once a week, I ride my bicycle to San Antonio to pick up the tourist letters. Everyone is doing well and is happy and I have some really exciting news to tell you but you are going to have to wait to hear it. I bet I made you real curious, huh? Just keep listening. Don't skip ahead to find out. And since I can't wait to tell you the good news, I won't waste any more of your time. I just wanted to tell you that life is full of surprises, don't you think? There you are complaining about how you are up to your ears in the snow and I have never even seen a snowflake except in the movies of course. I would have loved to be in Paris swimming in the snow, rolling myself around in it like a rotten flower. Anyway, to show you my appreciation for the letter and your gift, I have dedicated this poem to you and also because it was inspired by your odds and it's called, I couldn't think of a short title, on to the snow over Neruda in Paris. Soft camera with secretive steps, abundant milk from the heavens, immaculate school smock, the bed sheets of silent travelers who drift from hotel to hotel, the wrinkled portrait in their pockets, light, multiple load, wings of many dogs, the scarf that says goodbye to who knows what. Please, tell beauty, fold gently upon Neruda in Paris. Dress him up in your white admiral suit and carry him in your small boat to this board where he's so much missed. And I will read you the poem in Spanish just the last part of it. Blanta compañera de pasos sigilosos, abundante leche de los cielos, delantal immaculado de mi escuela, sábana de viajeros silenciosos que van de pensión en pensión con un retrato arrugado en los bolsillos, ligera y plural don Sella, ala de miles de palomas, pañuelo que se despide no sé qué cosa. Por favor, mi palida bella, caia amable sobre Neruda en Paris. Víste lo de Gala con tu albo traje de almirante y tráde lo en tu leve fragata a este puerto donde lo echamos tanto de menos. Thank you.