Oh, don't be vain and fanciful. I swear That in my placid life, happiness brings no joy. What I longed for was a love, profound and mature, The profound love of a poet come to being, And not the incongruities of adolescence in verse.... The radiant synthesis of a pungent existence And not the disloyalties of a dispersed dream. What woman has not dreamed of loving a poet Who would be conqueror and conquered all in one? What woman has not wished to be humble and forgiving With the man who sings the great passions he has known? We need you poets.... We are tormented by the desire Of a harmonious life, filled with deep sound, With the vigor and strength of wine poured out Into bowls of truths, deep with the depth of death. We crave no water, lymphatic, pure, In glasses of wind, frail as life. Better the vintage of the rich Served in vile glasses of gold. And if the mind be coarse, Perchance the hands will glitter with many stones. And if I may not have a fragrant and well-ordered nest Filled with clear rhythm and little blond heads, Then let me have my palace where luxurious pleasure Lends to love of earth, grief and deep dismay. Why do you not love living, poets? Why is it, The dullard who nor loves nor lives poaches your kisses?

Marquise Monologue from By Federico MoreTranslated from the Spanish

Rehearse Marquise's monologue