We should be stingier br breathing out and breathing in- br then, perhaps, the epic br will lie down in neat quatrains. br br We have to be more generous, br louder, like the outcry 'Follow me! ' br stronger, coarser- br with the earth's coarse globe. br br I envy the relics of space, br compressed by the word in layers, br but brevity is the sister of ineptitude br when it springs from emptiness. br br Not all conciseness is priceless. br Rhymed oil cakes are stiff and brittle, br and someone's square hay, br I wouldn't eat if I were a horse. br br I like hay by the armful, br with the dew still not dried out, br with red whortleberries, with mushroom caps, br clipped by a scythe. br br All sentimentality with form is sloppy, br hurl the epoch into rhythm, br tear it up the way an invalid in despair br tears up his striped sailor's shirt! br br Should we place in a woman's cap and dress br along with other old-fashioned rags, br the divine tatters br that we call life? br br Handicraft taste is not art. br A great reader will grasp br both the charm of the absence of style br and the splendor of longeurs. br br br 1986 br Translated by Albert C.