Letters in Books: Cartas desde el infierno

I am sure we all have memories of Ramón Sampedro (1943-1998), because he was the man fighting for his right to die, and his case was all over the news in Spain back in the 90es; or else because we remember his story told by Alejandro Amenábar in his movie Mar adentro (2004). 

In a previous entry, we presented his epitaph, which by the way is a reminder that even his last will was not respected. In his book Cuando yo caiga (1998), he stated, "No me cubras de tierra, ni me metas en un nicho, si no quieres verme, llévame a campo abierto". He wanted to be cremated and then have his ashes scattered from A Curota mountaintop and As Furnas beach.

Anyway, today I would like to talk about his letters which have been compiled, along with his poems in a book, Cartas desde el infierno (2004), which Dolores López has kindly lent me. I must confess reading it was painful, emotionally devastating. It deals with real, important issues, and knowing who penned those words makes them all the more heartbreaking, which I am sure were not the emotions Sampedro wanted to inspire, but I can't help feeling them.

Some extracts from his letters that I especially enjoyed:

"Y como mi dolor va unido a mi circunstancia, reclamo para mí la parte de responsabilidad que me corresponde" (p. 122)

"Siempre hay alguien que nos dice que lo que él no entiende es imposible. Siempre hay alguien que piensa que todo es inalcanzable, que ningún lugar está cerca porque él no pueda tocarlo. Pero los que nos creemos simplemente ondas de luz que nos encendemos con la magia de los sueños sabemos que ningún lugar está lejos, ni siquiera la eternidad." (pp. 135, 136)

Below you can see an extract of a programme where Mercedes Milá interviewed Ramón Sampedro and where he, once again, crusaded for his rights.

And finally, a beautiful poem from his book which has a special place in my heart because the first person to recite it to me was Vane Rodríguez, for whom it holds an intimate, personal meaning.

ENSUEÑOS

Mar adentro, mar adentro,

y en la ingravidez del fondo, 

donde se cumplen los sueños,

se juntan dos voluntades

para cumplir un deseo.

Un beso enciende la vida

con un relámpago y un trueno,

y en una metamorfosis

mi cuerpo no era ya mi cuerpo;

era como penetrar al centro del universo:

El abrazo más pueril,

y el más puro de los besos,

hasta vernos reducidos 

en un único deseo:

Su mirada y mi mirada

como un eco repitiendo, sin palabras:

más adentro, más adentro,

hasta más allá del todo

por la sangre y por los huesos.

Pero me despierto siempre

y siempre quiero estar muerto

para seguir con mi boca

enredada en sus cabellos. 

And of course a picture of his beautiful handwriting (he wrote with a pen in his mouth)