Antonio Porchia (1886 – 1968)
Argentinian writer and poet.
One who says the truth says hardly anything.
My father, when he went, made my childhood a gift of half century.
Located in some distant nebula I do what I do so that the universal balance I’m a part of won’t lose its balance.
Don’t speak to me. I want to be with you.
Words that they said to me at other times, I hear now.
The distant, the very distant, the most distant, I found only in my blood.
No one can help going beyond, and beyond there is an abyss.
I would ask something more of this world, if it had something more.
And if the clouds think they fly with their wings, they fly with their wings, but they cannot control them.
A new pain enters and the old pains of the household receive it with their silence, not with their death.
I am chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of my eyes.
And if you find everything as soon as you look for it, you find it in vain, you look for it in vain.
Yes, this is what is good: to forgive evil. There is no other good.
The tragedy of a man is greater when he gives it up.