Monday, April 12, 2010

To repay vileness with doves...

...I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.
I don't know who you are. I love you.
I don't give away thorns, and I don't sell them.

Maybe someone will know that I didn't weave crowns
to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;
that I did fill the high tide of my soul with the truth.
I repaid vileness with doves.

I have no never, because I was different-
was, am, will be.

LXXVIII Evening/Tarde
Pablo Neruda

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