We never found the Grail.
Th e tales were not true.
Only road weariness accompanied those who took
but expected stories.
What would our life be
Nothing was solved,
we could have stayed at home.
It’s that we’re so restless.
Nevertheless, when the journey was over
we felt that in us
–no longer hostages
a new temper
had been born.
Let’s come to an agreement, poem.
I won’t force you to say what you don’t want
and you won’t be so reluctant to do what I wish.
We’ve wrestled a lot.
Why are you so determined to be my likeness
when you know things I don’t even suspect?
Free yourself from me.
Run and don’t look back.
Escape before it’s too late.
Because you always outdo me,
you know how to say what drives you
and I don’t,
because you’re more than yourself
and I’m only the man who tries to recognize
himself in you.
I take up the space of my desire
and you have none,
you only advance toward your destination
without looking at the hand you move,
that thinks it owns you when it feels you sprout
like a substance
that stands up.
Force the writer to go in your direction, he
only knows how to hide,
cover up what’s new,
What he shows is a tired
keep me away from you.
the nature of poetry is unintentional
I wanted to write
then I had the intention
not to have any intention
and the poem stopped there,
charred between the sparks
of the two intentions
I leave it.