‘School of the poets’

Men who sing, and

are not the children of music,

are masters of the world.

Their births are events

in the chronology.

The hunters do not

have choice of words,

but the singing men

wonder at what

the hunters look,

while they ride.

The relation is a new word,

for them; deformities made sacred

by those pure souls-

Vulcan and Cupid

made divine.

Facts of the animal economy

reappear as symbols,

for a new passage.

The speech of the bard

is a lightening, and

that makes law.

From the intellect

of inebriating nectar,

as they should love

the wine, tobacco,

coffee or narcotics-

the mechanical substitutes

for the real nectar;

for the freedom of places

at the root,

not heavens.

The singing men

do not sublimate,

they make sublime,

they are free

and make free.

They unlock the fettered chains.

They stop searching something

in a mere color

and make them exponents,

new exponents.

They carry a mirror

when they travel

through the streets,

as art is the creator himself,

and the singing men-the bards,

lords of the sea, land and air;

for, they take men

down the chutes of life,

and make their own school,

a school for the bards, the poets.