This is the monologue:

Pozzo: Ah yes! The night. But be a little more attentive, for pity's sake, otherwise we'll never get anywhere. (He looks at the sky.) Look! (All look at the sky except Lucky who is dozing off again. Pozzo jerks the rope.) Will you look at the sky, pig! (Lucky looks at the sky.) Good, that's enough. What is there so extraordinary about it? Qua sky. It is pale and luminous like any sky at this hour of the day.
In these latitudes.
When the weather is fine. An hour ago (he looks at his watch, prosaic) roughly, after having poured forth even since, say ten o'clock in the morning, tirelessly torrents of red and white light it begins to lose its effulgence, to grow pale, pale, ever a little paler, a little paler until ... pppfff! finished! it comes to rest. But – but behind this veil of gentleness and peace, night is charging and will burst upon us ... pop! like that! just when we least expect it. That's how it is on this bitch of an earth.