Top 15 Menotti Lerro Quotes

Tonight I have no desire to sleep. / I want to remain here until morning / writing poetry. / The heart drowns less slowly / when the pen sheds tears / and the paper dries pain. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 55)

Nothing belongs to us / but dreams / confused images of the night, / voices that we do not distinguish anymore. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 52)

And yet in no time they disappear, / perhaps to reappear in a dream… / But now they are dead, / deleted without having lived / because each man exists just for himself / and when he dies (did he live?) nobody knows / that once he breathed. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 49)

The carpentry smelt of trees and incense. / My father spread white Vinavil in grooves, / inserted steel nails with two short, intense blows. / I imitated him, little hammer, between my hands, his tools in miniature… / I dreamt about the Trojan horse. / Then in the evening I hid myself / among sawdust: There is no safer place / in the world he said, with open arms. / Nowadays I take no cover / but in his eyes / (in the calm before the storm); / piece by piece I tidy up / our carpentry. (From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 42)

We grow old in people’s eyes / or when, opening a wardrobe, / the mirror takes us by surprise. / We grow old, half-plunged / in our rivers / seeing portraits reflected / when images flow among a thousand folds; / we grow old in twisted reflections of cutlery / and glasses. (From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 41)

The infinite is inside / our eyes; / not outside, not in the things / of this world, / but in their shadows. / Night, Death, Blinking, / take us through the universe again, / out of time. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 40)

If life is a mixture of drained rivers / which carry to the sea echoes of water, / we are nothing but shadows – / reflected lights of dead bodies without no possible outlet or shore. (From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 37)

The false teeth that kissed me / remained here / after you went away. / I sometimes look at them / and see you cleaning them again with string, / with a twig from the field / and then blow on them, patiently, with love. / One day, maybe, I will give them to my jaws. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 20)

When I think of poetry, I like to think of it as follows: as the echo of a splash of the sea upon the shadows of those thousand-year-old rocks, that remember – after the continuous modeling of the wind and water – the shadows of the bodies of human beings. A splash capable of emitting a redeeming scent that, once smelt, we cannot live without. (Defining Poetry. From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011, p. 9)

Poetry cannot be imprisoned in one definition and therefore I myself would have a lot of them, yet no definite and certain definition. I will define, consequently, this literary genre in a different way in comparison with my previous definitions. To being with, I would say that poetry itself is a tool that defines us and the universe, because it is quintessence. (Defining Poetry. From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011, p. 1)

When a devil, but also a saint, laughs about your poetry, you laugh about his ignorance!

Men were born to die! Life has only one purpose: to understand the sense of your own misery.

I’ve never been afraid to die. Death in my dreams is a walk, compared to what we call life. If I have to fall, I want to do it my way, without anybody supporting me or pushing me.

If God entrusted his word to priests, it’s easy to explain why the world refuses to listen to it.

Betraying who you love is like betraying yourself!