A poetic collection about man's struggle to exist in the modern world. An elegy about the power of the soul
– What are you reading?
– A poem.
– Aren't you afraid of words?
- No.
– Poetry, however, is an ocean of words, some of which caress and calm the waves, while others collide at the bottom and raise Homeric storms.
– Even the sweetest-voiced ones, when they meet, you don't know whether they will weave a song of the frieze-bearing sun or Hecuba's final lament.
– I'm not afraid of them.
– You may, of course, be enchanted by the seductresses who, with a wreath of myrtle and a perfumed body, sway gently to the rhythm of Mother Earth and sing in the eternal festivals of the plane tree, but you may also become angry with the indignant ones who deafen you with slogans on the sidewalks of the scorched city, or you may become ashamed of the shameless feminists when they throw themselves naked in the middle of the yard to pollute the air of your love, and you may even be whipped and bleed with the slanderous and impious ones who ask you on sleepless nights if you too have fed so many lies with your silence and nibble at your soul in the darkness.
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