Maybe because of fear, maybe because of pain... It doesn't matter if in the end there is a door that prevents the blessed from entering the superior kingdoms, the kingdom of heaven! – what more pains will it take to convince the most skeptical and cynical of nihilists to move? How many more defeats will it take for the most stubborn and conservative of socialist comrades to change their methods? How many more workers will we need to throw into the meat grinder before we finally have hatred? – but not that blind hatred, that hatred that corrodes and burns everything it touches, but rather that hatred that builds and does not burn, but purifies – No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it frustrates, no matter how much you still kill They will not prefer any poet other than one who does not translate tragedy as well as the most sensitive and dedicated poets, musicians, artists, etc., on the contrary, they will prefer those who romanticize tragic life under capitalism. Do you prefer to rejoice – out of naivety or ignorance? Out of masochism or sadism? – with the cynical words of these fakers. I don't deny my immaturity, my insensitivity as a poet. I just don't use it as my excuse... What a disgusting, cruel and sadistic symptom of the capitalism we live in. The idiosyncrasy of these poets is driven by different fuels – we cannot summarize their actions as daydreams driven by naivety, ignorance or mere foolishness. Pain moves them... Where? – asks the curious man, and I answer him that this is the problem: pain moves human beings to some place, to a movement, but we certainly don't know where it will end up, but it is certain that this person will turn to something...