The Living Owe It To Those Who

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Remind Us How Difficult It Is To Remain Just One Person, For Our House Is Open, There Are No Keys In The Doors, And Invisible Guests Come In And Out At Will.

Every Poet Depends Upon Generations Who Wrote In His Native Tongue; He Inherits Styles And Forms Elaborated By Those Who Lived Before Him. At The Same Time, Though, He Feels That Those Old Means Of Expression Are Not Adequate To His Own Experience.

When I Die, I Will See The Lining Of The World. The Other Side, Beyond Bird, Mountain, Sunset.

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.

The Child Who Dwells Inside Us Trusts That There Are Wise Men Somewhere Who Know The Truth.