After the turbulence of death, moral principles and even religious proofs are called into question.

We wrote verses that condemned us, with no hope of pardon, to the most bitter solitude.

The poet's spoken discourse often depends on a mystique, on the spiritual freedom that finds itself enslaved on earth.

The poet does not fear death, not because he believes in the fantasy of heroes, but because death constantly visits his thoughts and is thus an image of a serene dialogue.

Even a polemic has some justification if one considers that my own first poetic experiments began during a dictatorship and mark the origin of the Hermetic movement.

A poet clings to his own tradition and avoids internationalism.

From the night, his solitude, the poet finds day and starts a diary that is lethal to the inert. The dark landscape yields a dialogue.