May every word carry what it says.
May it be like the tremor that holds it.
May it remain like a heartbeat.
I will not utter adorned falsehood or ink dubiously or add
brightness to what is.
This makes me hear myself. But we are here to tell the truth.
Let us be real.
I want frightening accuracies.
I shudder when I think I fake myself. I must carry the weight of
my words. They own me as much as I own them.
If I do not see well, tell me, you who know me, my lie, show me
the deception, rub the fraud in me.
I will be grateful, seriously.
I madly want to reciprocate myself.
Be my eye, wait for me at night and see me, scrutinize me, shake me.
Rafael Cadenas, Intemperie, 1977