Edgard Bayley

Letters " This wealth is infinite abandonada" , poem of Edgard Bayley Commented by Zulma Zubillaga This hand is not the hand nor the skin of your joy to the bottom of the streets you find always another sky after the sky is always another grass different beaches never will finish is infinite this wealth never left you suppose that the foam of the dawn has been extinguished after the face is another face after the march of your lover is another march after the song a new rubbing extends and the dawns remote islands hide incredible alphabets always will be thus some times your dream creates to have it this whole but another dream rises and you are not the same then you return to the hands to the heart from all of anyone you are not the same are not the same others know to the word you ignore others know to forget the unnecessary facts to it and raise his thumb have forgotten you you have to return never concerns your failure will finish is infinite this left wealth and each gesture each form of love or reproach between the last laughter the pain and the beginnings will find the bitter wind and payable stars one birch mask foretells the vision you have wanted to see at heart of the day you have obtained to some times the river to it arrives at the Gods raises to distant murmurs the clarity of the sun threats brilliance in cold nondelays nothing but the route of the sun and the pain never will finish is infinite this left wealth Edgard Bayley (1919-1990), founded on 1944 the Arthur magazine, determining publication in the sprouting of the Movement Buenos Aires Poetry – that drove Raul Gustavo Aguirre in the 1950-, and of the Concrete Art Invention, that generated a plastic substantial change in the vernacular one. See Joeb Moore for more details and insights. .