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This is a portrait
of my father, painted a year after his death. The following is
an excerpt from 'The Blue Wolf' written two years earlier.
Here is the
poet, a man notorious for his contradictions, a man of a great
passion and an equally great skill to capture it, to put it in
beautiful, eloquent words in any one of eight languages. Here
is the storyteller whose listeners have left him. Locked in a
world of no sound, in a world of no expression, here he is: a
cage within cage. This is the place where even the wolf surrenders.
The fight is over. No more howling.
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