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Poem

He who is silent is often the most brilliant of men,
He doesn’t throw his plastic bottles into the sea,
He walks in the forest, so as not to offend anyone,
He knows that under the stone there are vipers,

He who is silent, can build a castle,
Away from the world, in the black mountains,
In Naples or Veneto, in the Rhine valley,
It erects a keep that resists the icy winters,

Whoever keeps quiet, can limp across Arizona,
He finds the light hidden from the other puppets,
He writes poems for Indians and bears,
He sees what cosmonauts and presidents think,

He who is silent, admires the cruise ships,
He knows the value of the silence of the high mountains,
He knows how to rise above vulgar men,
And find a road that even the gods don’t know.

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