El sueño / Emilo Adolfo Westphalen

The Dream

         The poetic germ of the dream turned out to be, not like the poor professors and the paltry realist critics tried to make us believe, a new unreachable paradise, a mirage, but instead a toxic and active germ, the useful reactive for corroding dreadful reality. The dream is not a refuge but a weapon.
         Liberty’s bad instincts dance their diabolical round. Out with conformity, resignation, the middle! May the rogues, the exploiters drown in their black spittle, those who take advantage of others’ misery, and the damned clergy, and the abominable religious spirit, and the Christian ghosts, and the myths of capital, and the bourgeois family, and the dreadful homeland.
         Man’s liberty, that is, the dream minted in reality, poetry speaking through everyone’s mouth and realizing itself, concrete and palpable, in everyone’s actions.




{ Emilo Adolfo Westphalen, Cuál es la risa, 1989 }