Maybe my fall was the redemption
I don’t know that the same illusion
is world and conscience and in the mystery
of her own waves every earthly voice
is shipwrecked. I’m not reactionary
I admit all the regimes, all the reforms
and all the revolutions that you desire.
Nonetheless allow me to play my part.
Don’t request of me to believe
that the history makes sense
(a belch and nothing more...)
and that the man has a future.
The man full of abysses will pass
from difficulty to difficulty
and thus the things will take place
until he perishes because of this.
Only the syncopation in his reflections
assures him the freedom. This vacuum
doesn’t let him be an automaton.
As an anarchist, I’m enshrouded
in huge waters of indifference
under another order of stars.
The great truths are told on the threshold
of death’s door.
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