Thank You For Saying Thank You (audio only)
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Find and share the perfect poems.
For the sentiment. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the sentiment.
For the message. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the message.
For the music. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the music.
For the spirit. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the spirit.
For the intelligence. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the intelligence.
For the courage. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the courage.
For the inspiration. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the inspiration.
For the emotion. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the emotion.
For the vocabulary. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the vocabulary.
For the poet. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the poet.
For the meaning. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the meaning.
For what it stands for. — Then you don’t love the poem you love what it stands for.
For the words. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the words.
For the syntax. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the syntax.
For the politics. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the politics.
For the beauty. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the beauty.
For the outrage. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the outrage.
For the tenderness. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the tenderness.
For the hope. — Then you don’t love the poem you love the hope.
For itself. — Then you love the poem.
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.
I'm working on a poem that's so true, I can't show it to anyone. I could never show it to anyone. Because it says exactly what I think, and what I think scares me. Sometimes it pleases me. Usually it brings misery. And this poem says exactly what I think. What I think of myself, what I think of my friends, what I think about my lover. Exactly. Parts of it might please them, some of it might scare them. Some of it might bring misery. And I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to hurt them. I don't want to hurt anybody. I want everyone to love me. Still, I keep working on it. Why? Why do I keep working on it? Nobody will ever see it. Nobody will ever see it. I keep working on it even though I can never show it to anybody. I keep working on it even though someone might get hurt.
A Octavio Paz
El poema gira sobre la cabeza de un hombre en círculos ya próximos ya alejados El hombre al descubrirlo trata de poseerlo pero el poema desaparece Con lo que el hombre puede asir hace el poema Lo que se le escapa pertenece a los hombres futuros *
For Octavio Paz
The poem spins over the head of a man in circles close now now far The man discovers it tries to possess it but the poem disappears The man makes his poem from whatever he can grasp That which escapes will belong to future men
Finding the measure is finding the mantram, is finding the moon, as index of measure, is finding the moon's source; if that source is Sun, finding the measure is finding the natural articulation of ideas. The organism of the macrocosm, the organism of language, the organism of I combine in ceaseless naturing to propagate a fourth, the poem, from their trinity. Style is death. Finding the measure is finding a freedom from that death, a way out, a movement forward. Finding the measure is finding the specific music of the hour, the synchronous consequence of the motion of the whole world.