The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That

Take Bread Away From Me, If You Wish, Take Air Away, But Do Not Take From Me Your Laughter.

Donde Termina El Arco Iris, En Tu Alma O En El Horizonte? Where Does The Rainbow End, In Your Soul Or On The Horizon?

Who Hasn't Sharpened The Edge Of His Soul? When, Just As Our Eyes Are Opened, We See Hate, And Just After Learning To Walk, We Are Tripped, And Just For Wanting To Love, We Are Hated, And For No More Than Touching, We Are Hurt, Which Of Us Hasn't Started To Arm Himself, To Make Himself Sharp, Somehow, Like A Knife, To Pay Back The Hurt?

Political Poetry Is More Profoundly Emotional Than Any Other-at Least As Much As Love Poetry-and Cannot Be Forced Because Then It Becomes Vulgar And Unacceptable. It Is Necessary First To Pan Though All Other Poetry In Order To Become A Political Poet.

Laughter Is The Language Of The Soul.