Endless Poetry Page #3

Yes, Mom.

"To commit misdemeanors, some mistakes, " under penalty of falling in disgrace to your fascinating eyes. " You offer me the

Nirvana. There are there for three months of beer and Of empanadas, an eternity! = = Wait. Tell me, what is poetry for you?

The luminous excrement of a

toad that swallowed a firefly.

My little toad,

I am a firefly far too

big for your mouth.

I do not need to swallow you.

You are my soul.

A soul dead of thirst.

Midnight!

The Iris coffee must finally be opened.

Let's go!

There is no service today.

One of us died.

Sh*t!

My kingdom for a beer!

There is a bar that only closes

at dawn, Le Perroquet Mute.

Come on!

Stella, are you crazy?

It is a dismal place.

There is fighting with

a knife every night!

If Orpheus could charm the fauves,

we can make the mass sing

to this mute parrot!

Let's run it!

Attends.

You have the chest in the

air, close your coat.

Do not be afraid.

I know how to defend myself!

"A liter and a half, sir!

Mademoiselle!

Health.

How much for a pipe?

But, I'm not practicing

prostitution.

Damage,

you have the skin so white.

I am an artist, I am a poet.

Poet...

Like that big bust of Neruda?

Recite me something.

Agree.

I will improvise some verses.

After, leave me alone.

"There where there are

ears but no songs,

" in this world that dissolves,

"where Being offers itself to the destitute," "I am much more my footsteps than my footsteps" No! I am a poet! = = Halte, macaques! Respect to the vengeful vagina = = = = =

That's enough.

Let's go.

More of that, Stella.

Ricardo!

What? Did you know him?

That was my cousin.

But what idea to commit suicide

before the University of Chile!

He did not want to become an architect.

"Like a bird,

" like the viscera of a tree,

"You have come to the end of your quest, conquered and condemned," "for muzzling the

soul you hid." You can not do anything for him anymore. Stella, I do not know who I am.

I have become a mirror that

reflects only your image.

I do not want to live in the

chaos you create. It's clear?

I beg you...

Let me find myself.

Give me a few days of solitude.

We will meet again at Caf Iris,

at midnight pile,

In forty days.

Mange, Alejandro.

It's been forty days that

you're locked up here,

to sculpt puppets without

putting the nose out.

Why?

I feel empty.

I sculpt faces

because I lost mine.

I did not find myself.

Maybe tonight,

I will again be the mirror

of this terrible woman.

What did you do to your hair?

The god I was waiting for

descended from the mountains.

I'm no longer a virgin.

I carry the perfect child

that destiny had promised me.

I am a dove announcing.

Leave me alone.

Do not worry.

This is a harmless

attack of sadness.

The first look I've posed on you

Stayed engraved in my eyes

And now Where will my song go?

But she looks like me!

Let's see.

That's right!

I buy you.

No, I offer it to you.

No, I buy you.

And this one looks like a friend!

Miracles exist.

I have to present it to

you, it is a great artist.

I offer them to you.

Andrew, for you.

Luz, for you.

So you will stay together.

You are a divine messenger, my boy.

Thanks to you, Luz and I

will not be separated.

This workshop

is mine.

I give it to you.

That's right?

But it's a miracle!

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thanks...

Here I will be able to create,

write,

do whatever I want.

Here it is at home.

I'll even organize parties

with boxers,

politicians, whores,

all my friends.

It's going to be party, here!

This place will be a paradise.

A paradise!

If everyday life

seems to us a hell,

if it is reduced to these two words:

"permanent impermanence",

one must follow the precept of the Bible.

"Nothing better for the man

" than to eat,

"let him drink,

" and his soul rejoice! " He that has legs, dance! He that has hands, caress! And that he who Has a language that confesses her sins on the Chair of the Truth! = = I have been waiting for her all my life. I finally found her

I would like to caress her infinitely,

But...

I lost them when I was a child.

I am so accustomed to

these false hands,

that I forgot that

I was penguin.

Until the day she

offered me her body.

And me,

can only caress it half,

I would like to have

two, four, eight,

thousand hands...

and can caress her all my life.

Who wants to help me, with his hands,

to realize my dream?

Go up here, please.

"If life is madness..."

Who is this poet behind his mirror?

This is Enrique Lihn.

"... such is my poetry:

clairvoyant obscurity

" I am only my own absence

"behind a broken mirror."

Who is there?

The organizer of holidays!

I'm coming.

What do you want?

I want to be your friend.

Are you homosexual?

No.

Why do you want to be my friend then?

Because I admire your poetry.

I see. It's my verse that

interests you, not me.

Well, yes!

Come on in!

Between!

The U.S.A rely on their

powerful B-29 bombers

to which the Russians can

oppose their aggressive MIG...

What do you think, Tito?

Although cold, it is still war.

Raise the sound.

The U.S.A rely on their

powerful bombers B-29

to which the Russians can

oppose their aggressive MIG...

These are my parents.

This stupid war has

sucked the brain.

It's been a long time since they died.

Come on.

Welcome to my temple.

Can I?

Please.

I love it!

It's you who wrote all that?

Yes, everything.

"Because you are invisible, you

despise you, perfect diamond."

"The death I am running, runs

without hurrying at my side."

But there are poems

on the ground!

This wonderful work will be lost!

Everything will get lost.

Our souls are going to be lost.

It does not matter.

Dreams also get lost,

and ourselves, little

by little, we dissolve.

Poetry, such as the shadow

of an eagle in flight,

leaves no trace on earth.

A poem reaches perfection

only when it is consumed.

I could not bear to see

such a work consumed.

Let's do something.

Let's go for a walk.

Let's go!

On the attack!

Alejandro, do you agree with me?

The language we were taught

carries crazy ideas.

That's it, my dear Enrique.

Instead of thinking

straight, we think twisted.

I would like to point out that we

also walk in a twisted manner.

I feel like we're

going straight.

Yes, but this truck

will force us to fork.

What to do?

We poets, we are

obliged to nothing.

Continue in a straight line.

Fools!

My truck!

F*** you, sh*t!

Give me the camp, a**holes!

You want, young men?

Respectable lady, we

are poets in action.

We cross the city

in a straight line.

Can we cross your house?

Why do you do this?

To develop our

conscience, madame.

Ah, good. Then...

Go ahead, enter.

Dear madam,

in order to continue straight,

do you allow us to

walk on this obstacle?

That's why we sleep here...

Wait to see...

Help me.

That's good.

- Go ahead.

- Thank you, sublime lady.

You have just entered history.

Farewell, unforgettable lady.

What is marked there?

"Forbidden to pedestrians."

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