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Shall
we
just
love
and
love
?
Ah
,
but
I
love
the
most
,
and
I
can
tell
when
you
’
re
away
from
me
,
even
a
little
.
I
think
it
’
s
wonderful
to
be
just
like
everybody
else
,
to
reach
out
and
find
you
all
warm
beside
me
in
the
bed
.
.
.
.
If
you
will
kindly
call
my
husband
at
the
hospital
.
Yes
,
the
little
book
is
selling
everywhere
—
they
want
it
published
in
six
languages
.
I
was
to
do
the
French
translation
but
I
’
m
tired
these
days
—
I
’
m
afraid
of
falling
,
I
’
m
so
heavy
and
clumsy
—
like
a
broken
roly
-
poly
that
can
’
t
stand
up
straight
.
The
cold
stethoscope
against
my
heart
and
my
strongest
feeling
"
Je
m
’
en
fiche
de
tout
.
"
—
Oh
,
that
poor
woman
in
the
hospital
with
the
blue
baby
,
much
better
dead
.
Isn
’
t
it
fine
there
are
three
of
us
now
?
.
.
.
That
seems
unreasonable
,
Dick
—
we
have
every
reason
for
taking
the
bigger
apartment
.
Why
should
we
penalize
ourselves
just
because
there
’
s
more
Warren
money
than
Diver
money
.
Oh
,
thank
you
,
cameriere
,
but
we
’
ve
changed
our
minds
.
This
English
clergyman
tells
us
that
your
wine
here
in
Orvieto
is
excellent
.
It
doesn
’
t
travel
?
That
must
be
why
we
have
never
heard
of
it
,
because
we
love
wine
.
The
lakes
are
sunk
in
the
brown
clay
and
the
slopes
have
all
the
creases
of
a
belly
.
The
photographer
gave
us
the
picture
of
me
,
my
hair
limp
over
the
rail
on
the
boat
to
Capri
.
"
Good
-
by
,
Blue
Grotte
,
"
sang
the
boatman
,
"
come
again
soo
-
oon
.
"
And
afterward
tracing
down
the
hot
sinister
shin
of
the
Italian
boot
with
the
wind
soughing
around
those
eerie
castles
,
the
dead
watching
from
up
on
those
hills
.
.
.
.
This
ship
is
nice
,
with
our
heels
hitting
the
deck
together
.
This
is
the
blowy
corner
and
each
time
we
turn
it
I
slant
forward
against
the
wind
and
pull
my
coat
together
without
losing
step
with
Dick
.
We
are
chanting
nonsense
:
"
Oh
—
oh
—
oh
—
oh
Other
flamingoes
than
me
,
Oh
—
oh
—
oh
—
oh
Other
flamingoes
than
me
—
"
