The poet does not know - often he will never know - whom he really writes for.

However, poetry does not live solely in books or in school anthologies.

It has often been observed that the repercussion of poetic language on prose language can be considered a decisive cut of a whip.

True poetry is similar to certain pictures whose owner is unknown and which only a few initiated people know.

This proves that great lyric poetry can die, be reborn, die again, but will always remain one of the most outstanding creations of the human soul.

Art is the production of objects for consumption, to be used and discarded while waiting for a new world in which man will have succeeded in freeing himself of everything, even of his own consciousness.