1:11:04
As I look back on our utensils...
1:11:07
and the family clothing...
1:11:11
I hear diffused,
lost voices inside that trench.
1:11:15
I'm not surprised by the clear
water springing from the bottom.
1:11:25
And I withdraw
into our weariness.
1:11:29
And I step back after such an
exhaustive struggle.
1:11:34
And from our bale of routines
I draw, one by one...
1:11:38
the sacred bones
of our code of behavior:
1:11:43
The excess: Forbidden.
1:11:46
Zeal: A must.
1:11:50
And condemned as a vice...
1:11:52
through constant preaching
any waste was to be banned...
1:11:56
denounced as a serious
threat to our work.
1:12:03
And I face again the tepid
message in looks and frowns.
1:12:09
And our hidden chagrins
burning through our cheeks.
1:12:16
And the acid anguish
of a stingy scold.
1:12:21
And discipline oftentimes rude...
1:12:24
there was also the
children's crafts school...
1:12:28
forbidding us to buy elsewhere...
1:12:30
what could be made
with our own hands.
1:12:34
And the toughest law said
that it had to be right there...
1:12:38
at the farm, that all of our bread
had to be kneaded.
1:12:47
We never had on our table a
bread that was not homemade.
1:12:53
And by the time
we would share it...
1:12:57
which happened
three times a day...