The Poet

Yesterday I was reviewing an anthology of poems by Walt Whitman, the book published with the title Leaves of Grass. I was impressed by the candor and deep vitality of the American writer; his passionate love of life caused me such envy that I have decided to make a vow of contrition. I will try to amend my aversion and my rejection. Instead of fearing the reprisals that my confrontations with life may provoke, I will behave like an unconditional lover in the face of everyday life, things, and the world. Alas, the arts! How essential they are to us to be able to carry our existences without fainting.

I promise that from today I will accept with a minimum of replies what comes to me in this incomprehensible drama that I have to interpret.