My Grief And My Smile Begin In

Now I Am Nothing But A Veil; All My Body Is A Veil Beneath Which A Child Sleeps.

All Night I Have Suffered; All Night My Flesh Has Trembled To Bring Forth Its Gift. The Sweat Of Death Is On My Forehead; But It Is Not Death, It Is Life!

Let The Radiance Of My Enthusiasms Envelop The Poor Courtyard And The Bare Classroom. Let My Heart Be A Stronger Column And My Goodwill Purer Gold Than The Columns And Gold Of Rich Schools.

I Write Poetry Because I Can’t Disobey The Impulse; It Would Be Like Blocking A Spring That Surges Up In My Throat. For A Long Time I’ve Been The Servant Of The Song That Comes, That Appears And Can’t Be Buried Away. How To Seal Myself Up Now?…it No Longer Matters To Me Who Receives What I Submit. What I Carry Out Is, In That Respect, Greater And Deeper Than I, I Am Merely The Channel.

Speech Is Our Second Possession, After The Soul-and Perhaps We Have No Other Possession In This World.