Let Ezra Pound Speak

If you have nothing to say keep silent
let Ezra Pound speak
from the shadows the splendid old man
from the fine water line
the magnificent old man
shows you the genuine banknotes of his fortune
and all shine legitimate fish
of an infinite river which indeed
never stops.
If you have nothing to say keep silent
the high gentleman the variegated ladies
who lived and died and were born for this only cause
cannot allow by their side
the stuttering of a dwarf
the limping of a false purse
denouncing that the gold of their verbs
lacks that thin water line
that savage finesse the impecable spot
not adorning the head of a written animal
-which goes through the paper only for an instant-
but comes out of the bottomless animal
of the live viscus where royal blood runs
-that one where red comes from-
and beats outside like a monster of light
like an image without other chapel than every thing
of every universe possible or impossible
which could indeed be adored
standing and without veils without altars or anything
-not even acolytes-
under the name of our lady of veils
crowned by manure and nerves
of eclipses and novas O you
tall and short sublime malicious
poetry reigning over the extended night
and the narrow day.