Writing

When spring arrives,

If I’m already dead,

The flowers will flower in the same way

And the trees will not be less green than last spring.

Reality doesn’t need me.

It makes me enormously happy

To think that my death is of no importance whatsoever.

If I knew that I would die tomorrow

And that spring was the day after tomorrow,

I would die happy, because spring

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My hand that destroys

The heap of ants

Must seem to them of divine origin,

But I don’t consider myself divine.

Likewise the gods

Perhaps do not see

Themselves as gods, being gods in our eyes

Only because they’re greater than us.

Whatever the case,

Let’s not commit

Completely to a faith, perhaps unfounded,

In those we believe to be gods.

A Little Larger Than

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I’m not a materialist or a deist or anything else. I’m a man

who one day opened the window and discovered this

crucial thing: Nature exists. I saw that the trees, the rivers

and the stones are things that truly exist. No one had ever

thought about this.

I don’t pretend to be anything more than the greatest

poet in the world. I made the greatest discovery

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