The Poem Is In My Hands, And

I Am From There. I Am From Here. I Am Not There And I Am Not Here. I Have Two Names, Which Meet And Part, And I Have Two Languages. I Forget Which Of Them I Dream In.

Exile Is More Than A Geographical Concept. You Can Be An Exile In Your Homeland, In Your Own House, In A Room.

I Thought Poetry Could Change Everything, Could Change History And Could Humanize, And I Think That The Illusion Is Very Necessary To Push Poets To Be Involved And To Believe, But Now I Think That Poetry Changes Only The Poet.

We Are Captives Of What We Love, What We Desire, And What We Are.

We Are Captives, Even If Our Wheat Grows Over The Fences/ And Swallows Rise From Our Broken Chains./ We Are Captives Of What We Love, What We Desire, And What We Are.