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One fine morning I woke with the suspicion
that most of the women of the World
had been transformed into Statues
and I in terrible opposition
to the coincidences that would be created in the World
after the pursuit of Anna
had to leave behind on their bodies
one autograph each.
The Art of Writing, however, had been completely debased
and the development of my own History
in the sense of Our tender words
which emerge from the soul and end up in the heart
would not guarantee any kind of survival
in the harshness of Human Existence, in Hell.
There where...whether wisely or stupidly
words come only from the brain
and the nerves taut ready to snap
after the declarations made by the privileged ones in Paradise
that ideal Lovers have all disappeared.
Another way must be found
to win over our Women this Time as well
and even more now... that the Nightmares
press on mercilessly toward the grounds of a logic
which blossoms all on its own...at such a mad pace
that all the Brave thoughts the World has nurtured
are now tripped up by their own feet
like old thorns.
Consequently the feelings that never had a beginning
now have reached a happy end
and all that is left is for me to act in this New Age
quickly...unconsciously...with five nervous systems
touching by means of that Longing that comes from the Past
but has a New Form (sacrosanct requirement of the New Age)
the Shadow of Women...
The single living representative of the statues
and then the exasperated lovers
and because there is no way they could get any tougher
would soften from all the tears
from the sudden chill of the lover
thus causing the Curtain to rise
on the development of another History.
But let then this
portion of the Worlds women weep.
Now I live for myself alone
and it doesn't matter to me if I am aggressive.
It's just that there must be maintained before the eyes of Spain
this endless shadow created by the Fall of the World
so that one day these Women will weaken
in precisely that Spain of miracles and mysteries
those heavily scrubbed and vulgar imaginings.
Which I have transformed into a statue
and with the one always seeking the other
in a corner somewhere in this World
which looks a great deal like a battlefield
where we will clash with one another.
In that space where enjoying the same rights
they could have taken part in...
the mentality of those fallen in Hell
and those raised to Paradise
particularly now that the Monasteries of Spain
have decided not to feel sorry for anyone
it will become obvious who was
daydreaming about our love.
It would be a great shock for me
as a symbol of the impersonal if I backed down
because to pursue Magdalene sex
is as you know an Ancient Voracity.
As for the Monasteries of Spain
if they wish to excommunicate me
they have me right here...I'm not going to hide
but neither am I about to make an Divine Apologia
the only thing I'd like to say is that they
have fallen into Sin.
It would be easy enough for them to back down
from this History
but they have insisted on planting themselves ever more firmly
wanting to make Anna the Heroine of the Bible
a woman completely liberated
from the temptations of Venice
because from what can be seen in Venice
you will decide on
how this great Trial should end.
It's been some time since I've wanted to measure myself
against this City
and since I've been given this golden opportunity
I want to say they've scandalized the honor of the Middle Ages
slandering with salacious tales
that White Republic.
Despite all that I'm going there as one in love
and let these living people be informed
that I stand accused of their own affectations
which under the Flags of St. Valentine
are presented as Divine Acts
but most probably are without any meaning at all...
At least that's the way it seems...
for the greed of the Church to excommunicate Everything
and first and foremost the criminal beauty of Venice
which will have the hypocrisy
even though it is sinful
to calmly rush toward Modernism
leaving me...the most self-effacing of them all it seems
quarrelling in despair with the Monasteries of Spain
at that moment when I
should be quickly passing from century to century
because I came to this History late.
And now that I see that everything has come to an end
even the desires of Venice
I feel more comfortable saying that I am
one of the Bards of Modernism
which inherited from me
but since these Beautiful
Women are complaining
that Men have so impersonally and Vulgarly
mortified their Happiness
I am inclined to confess that...
But the theme here is
that this is not my sin...
Please forgive me
but as you must understand
this mire of Evil
opens out day by day
like the Promised Land
...draconian heart of Modernism.
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