Hay Que Ser Absolutamente Moderno

I Turned Silences And Nights Into Words. What Was Unutterable, I Wrote Down. I Made The Whirling World Stand Still.

My Wisdom Is As Spurned As Chaos. What Is My Nothingness, Compared To The Amazement That Awaits You?

What An Old Maid I'm Getting To Be. Lacking The Courage To Be In Love With Death!

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

Yet This Is The Watch By Night. Let Us All Accept New Strength, And Real Tenderness. And At Dawn, Armed With Glowing Patience, We Will Enter The Cities Of Glory.