trilingual text
Motto:perhaps, in the forest, trees do not quarrel
for the sap of the Earth
and the blade of grass is praying for light, more assiduously
than me
.
a door with two thresholds and between them… my life
I’m keeping with the nails by hopes, oscillating between failures and powerlessness
– This door, oh, to reach its handle
I have to climb on my own shoulders and to bet it all on only
what can be only… beyond
to defeat me into myself… every passion here, with humility,
juice of the earth… must seem to me bitter just because… only beyond
will it be transformed into honey…
and all this waste of sublime, from my surrounding, I have to ignore?
maybe, it is not the hope that is at stake, but, only the burning of, the smoke by facts
this gets us there, and not the intentions…
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remedy for soul 