I first will read from a couple of translations
from Mexican poet by the name of León Felipe.
He is relatively unknown.
I think not because he isn't any good or he wasn't any good.
He died in '68.
But I think his star was probably
eclipsed by Octavio Paz.
Anyway, what I think I'll do is I'll
read Autobiography, since that's one good way to know someone
is read their autobiography.
Anyway, he has a great sense of humor,
and that's what's nice about him.
By laughing at himself, he ends up
being serious and exposing a lot of our problems
and a lot of our good points.
Anyway, Autobiography.
Are you a prophet, León Felipe?
Oh, no, I'm a thing without a name, born from the Earth.
I know less than a laborer.
I'm 81 years old, I'm crazy, and I
don't know why they brought me to this place.
I hear confused and obscure voices,
which I've got to untangle.
Sometimes I write without untangling them,
so among everyone will get them untangled,
because I don't want the oracle to trick me.
They say I'm a heretic and the blasphemer,
and others are certain that I've seen the face of God.
It's not true.
I've seen nothing more than my own face
when I look in the mirror.