To the Great Poets

There were many things of which.... by shame, education or to be judged fear... to write, I did not dare, I did not want… I was affraid… as much freedom, it commoved to me. But, I would do it, I saw, they removed everything and returned… and more they brought from there. Their words, let us glimpse that from imaginary rainbows they came, formed in colorful letters, taking to us… like in company, by ways with words fallen there, in that only way where they described the new things were hide… or those other ones, like a mirror… where to reflect to us, what is already known. We noticed their courage… they`ve shown their naked feel, crumbling of all the moments, the philosophies. Getting friends with whichever subject they preferred. Making the love to that form and circumstance…tearing out all the leaves in a poetic indagatory. But in which a rainbow, the tracks of their letters I believed I saw…in the new colors… their shadows I discovered. we could not see who did it, but they were there, left it to us, at brief moments they make us feel them…taking us... to take walks among their poems.