Devilkins
I have seen
how the opportunist was preparing
his condition, the arriviste
his alibi, the wealthy
skinflint his nets, the poet his
inclusions. I played with
clean paper facing the light
every day. I am a
working fisherman of verses
alive and wet that go on
leaping in my veins. I never knew
how to do anything else |
nor how to
arrange the affairs of the intrinsic
braggart or the
perverse intriguer, and it’s
not propaganda of the good that which I
am saying in my song: but I didn’t
know how to do it, and ask
forgiveness for it of everybody: leave me alone
with the sea: I was born
for few fish. |
Pablo Neruda