“
Ha triunfado otro ay. La verdad está allí.
Y quien tal actúa ¿no va a saber amaestrar
excelentes digitígrados
para el ratón. ¿Sí… No…?
Ha triunfado otro ay y contra nadie.
Oh exósmosis de agua químicamente pura.
Ah míos australes. Oh nuestros divinos.
Tengo pues derecho
a estar verde y contento y peligroso, y a ser
el cincel, miedo del bloque basto y vasto;
a meter la pata y la risa.
Absurdo, sólo tú eres puro.
Absurdo, sólo este exceso ante ti se
suda de dorado placer.
César Vallejo, en La soledad, la lluvia, los caminos.
“
Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child’s blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality- my insatiable creativity which must concern itself with others and cannot be sufficient to itself. I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because from now on I will weep less. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.
Anaīs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Volume 4 (1944-47)
