«The Last Poets»

I do make the wish of never serve the Princes of this world,

Hopefully my pen will stay far away from their darkness.

I have heard talk about men and women, who with only a few words have made empires collapse,

With simple poems have faced the tyrans.

I fear and I believe that this kind of people prove rare, like rain in the middle of the desert.

When all seems lost, all is dark, suddenly arises the improbable.

There are many mysteries for the one who wants to see them.

And much more than words for the one whose heart is alive.

If casually you knock at my door and I do not answer,

You will guess that I am on the tracks of the Last Poets.



« The Last Poets » ©

« Noires sont les roses »

“Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer.”

« Rainer Maria Rilke »

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