To live is to forgive,
To the girl who wears makeup over her vacuum cleaner,
To the shy writer who won the Nobel Prize,
To the growing silence of Icelandic whales and sperm whales,
To live is to forgive, Joseph Kessel, Beatrice,
To the panther-sized dancer,
Who leaves you on Valentine’s Day,
For touching you that you are not the center of the world,
Like Joseph Kessel, nor Edgar Allan Poe or Baudelaire.
To live is to forgive.
Asia is larger than a novel by Joseph Kessel.
To live is to forgive,
Asia is larger than a novel by Joseph Kessel.
To the icy ray of moon that crosses the window,
To the bee that stings your honey on the table of abundance,
Forgive the indifference and talent of New York poets,
To live is to forgive,
To his parents who scolded and lied to you often,
To the teacher who strikes his baton on the desk,
To the student who recites his fable without knowing it better,
To live is to forgive Joseph Kessel in the mountains,
To the nervous lions that hunt the elephants of Tanzania,
To capricious girls who take shampoos,
To the girls who want seducing cats and griffins.
To live is to forgive,
To lovers who eat dark chocolate,
To the bulls that haunt the dreams of the Spaniards,
To the prime numbers, this ridicules our cute reason.
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