I Have Always Knocked At

Many Of Today's Verses Are Prose And Bad Prose.

Strangely, Dante's Divine Comedy Did Not Produce A Prose Of That Creative Height Or It Did So After Centuries.

Happiness, For You We Walk On A Knife Edge. To The Eyes You Are A Flickering Light, To The Feet, Thin Ice That Cracks; And So May No One Touch You Who Loves You.

Against The Dark Background Of This Contemporary Civilization Of Well-being, Even The Arts Tend To Mingle, To Lose Their Identity.

Too Many Lives Are Needed To Make Just One.