“I would rediscover the secret of great communications
and great combustions
I would say ‘storm’
I would say ‘river’
I would say ‘tornado’
I would say ‘leaf’
I would say ‘tree’
I would be drenched by all rains
moistened by all dews
I would roll like frenetic blood on the slow current of the eye of words
turned into mad horses
into fresh children
into clots
into vestiges of temples
into precious stones remote enough to discourage miners
whoever would not understand me
would not understand any better the roaring of a tiger”
- Cesar Vallejo
