Chapter 52

The River, the Lagoon and the Distant Island

When I asked Papa to help me find a title for my poetry book, he immediately sent me a long list. Explaining that good titles often came from something ancient, he proposed: "What does your heart tell you?" from a verse of Dante; "Ay luna que reluces*" from a poem by an anonymous sixteenth century poet; "A cantar dulce y morirme luego**" by Gongora and, still to be translated into Italian, others.

Bottom of the list: "The River, the Lagoon and the Distant Island" followed by "Death and a Song" by Ernest Hemingway.

"Selecting and unwrapping to find a title takes me weeks, months." he explained. "Sometimes I have 50 and they're all bad. Many look great in the evening and bad in the morning." Dissatisfied, he concluded: "I apologize for failing and there is no excuse for failure."

It wasn't too bad, I thought looking at the drawing of the three-peaked mountain with which he closed the letter, similar to an "M," the M of Mistakes, a Mountain of kisses. I could do it alone, indeed it was preferable to do it alone under the circumstances.

Sure, it would have been nice to be able to put on that book of mine a title chosen from my school. To continue our collaboration which was progressing quite badly: not persuaded by...

* "Ah, resplendent moon"

** "To sing sweetly and die later"