An exact poetic duplication of a man is for the poet a negation of the earth, an impossibility of being, even though his greatest desire is to speak to many men, to unite with them by means of harmonious verses about the truths of the mind or of things.
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From the night, his solitude, the poet finds day and starts a diary that is lethal to the inert. The dark landscape yields a dialogue.
Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own.
War, I have always said, forces men to change their standards, regardless of whether their country has won or lost.