My Grief And My Smile Begin In

We Are Guilty Of Many Errors And Many Faults, But Our Worst Crime Is Abandoning The Children, Neglecting The Fountain Of Life. Many Of The Things We Need Can Wait. The Child Cannot. Right Now Is The Time His Bones Are Being Formed, His Blood Is Being Made, And His Senses Are Being Developed. To Him We Cannot Answer 'tomorrow.' His Name Is 'today.'

Now I Am Nothing But A Veil; All My Body Is A Veil Beneath Which A Child Sleeps.

Writing Tends To Cheer Me; It Always Soothes My Spirit And Blesses Me With The Gift Of An Innocent, Tender, Childlike Day. It Is The Sensation Of Having Spent A Few Hours In My Homeland, With My Customs, Free Whims, My Total Freedom.

I Have All That I Lost And I Go Carrying My Childhood Like A Favorite Flower That Perfumes My Hand.

I Write Poetry Because I Can’t Disobey The Impulse; It Would Be Like Blocking A Spring That Surges Up In My Throat. For A Long Time I’ve Been The Servant Of The Song That Comes, That Appears And Can’t Be Buried Away. How To Seal Myself Up Now?…it No Longer Matters To Me Who Receives What I Submit. What I Carry Out Is, In That Respect, Greater And Deeper Than I, I Am Merely The Channel.