“It was at that agethat poetry came in search of me.”

“PoetryAnd it was at that age... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no, they were not voices, they were notwords, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouthhad no way with names my eyes were blind, and something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire and I wrote the first faint line,faint, without substance, purenonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating planations, shadow perforated, riddled with arrows, fire and flowers, the winding night, the universe. And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke free on the open sky.”

“On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.”

“Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“Never an illness, nor the absenceof grandeur, no,nothing is able to kill the best in us,that kindness, dear sir, we are afflicted with:beautiful is the flower of man, his conduct,and every door opens on the beautiful truthand never hides treacherous whispers.I always gained something from making myself better,better than I am, better than I was,that most subtle citation:to recover some lost petalof the sadness I inherited:to search once more for the light that singsinside of me, the unwavering light.”

“My duty moves along with my song:I am I am not: that is my destiny.I exist not if I do not attend to the painof those who suffer: they are my pains.For I cannot be without existing for all,for all who are silent and oppressed,I come from the people and I sing for them:my poetry is song and punnishment.”