I was born in Alegrete, on the 30th of July 1906. I believe that was the first thing that happened to me. And now they have asked me to speak of myself. Well! I always thought that every confession that wasn’t altered by art is indecent. My life is in my poems, my poems are myself, never have I written a comma that wasn’t a confession. Ah! but what they want are details, rawness, gossip...Here we go! I am 78 years old, but without age. Of ages, there are only two: either you are alive or dead. In the latter case, it is too old, because what was promised to us was eternity. I was born in the rigor of the winter, temperature: 1 degree °C; and still I was premature, which would leave me kind of complexed because I used to think I wasn’t ready.
