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by Federico More

Genre: Drama
Setting: International
Format of Original Source: Play
Recommended Adaptation Length:

Candidate for Adaptation? Not Reviewed



I do not fear you though you are a poet,

And I say things to you, no other ears would endure.

You were not born, poor anchorite,

To say to a woman: “Be mine.”

And such is your secret vanity,

You are a servile vassal of your own Utopia.

You pretend to transform women

Into laurel branches meaningless,

And with your cynic’s blare

You thread upon the needle of your pride

Dregs from the utter depths of the abyss.


Marquise, a poet’s love has led you astray.


Oh, don’t be vain and fanciful. I swear

That in my placid life, happiness brings no joy.

What I longed for was a love, profound and mature,

The profound love of a poet come to being,

And not the incongruities of adolescence in verse….

The radiant synthesis of a pungent existence

And not the disloyalties of a dispersed dream.

What woman has not dreamed of loving a poet

Who would be conqueror and conquered all in one?

What woman has not wished to be humble and forgiving

With the man who sings the great passions he has known?

We need you poets…. We are tormented by the desire

Of a harmonious life, filled with deep sound,

With the vigor and strength of wine poured out

Into bowls of truths, deep with the depth of death.


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