From The Night, His Solitude,

From The Night, His Solitude, The Poet Finds Day And Starts A Diary That Is Lethal To The Inert. The Dark Landscape Yields A Dialogue.

Poetry Is The Revelation Of A Feeling That The Poet Believes To Be Interior And Personal But Which The Reader Recognizes As His Own.

At The Point When Continuity Was Interrupted By The First Nuclear Explosion, It Would Have Been Too Easy To Recover The Formal Sediment Which Linked Us With An Age Of Poetic Decorum, Of A Preoccupation With Poetic Sounds.

Even A Polemic Has Some Justification If One Considers That My Own First Poetic Experiments Began During A Dictatorship And Mark The Origin Of The Hermetic Movement.

War, I Have Always Said, Forces Men To Change Their Standards, Regardless Of Whether Their Country Has Won Or Lost.