What Is Poetry Which Does Not Save

Our Memory Is Childish And It Saves Only What We Need.

Grow Your Tree Of Falsehood From A Small Grain Of Truth. Do Not Follow Those Who Lie In Contempt Of Reality. Let Your Lie Be Even More Logical Than The Truth Itself, So The Weary Travelers May Find Repose.

It's True That What Is Morbid Is Highly Valued Today, And So You May Think That I Am Only Joking Or That I've Devised Just One More Means Of Praising Art With The Help Of Irony.

I Think That I Am Here, On This Earth, To Present A Report On It, But To Whom I Don't Know. As If I Were Sent So That Whatever Takes Place Has Meaning Because It Changes Into Memory.

For A Country Without A Past Is Nothing, A Word That, Hardly Spoken, Loses Its Meaning, A Perishable Wall Destroyed By Flame, An Echo Of Animal Emotions.