[…] poets like Homer will not be able to be anymore, because these times are not like the earlier ones, and the Aiodoi of today are not to sing barbaric wars of one people against the other, in order to find out which one endures the most, nor fights between one man and another, in order to find out who is the strongest one; what the poet of today must do is to advise men to love each other well, and to paint everything beautiful in the world, so that one can look into the verses, as if they were painted with colours, and punish with poetry just like with a whip those who want to deny mankind’s freedom, or those who steal other peoples’ money with the aid of sly laws, or those who want their countrymen to obey them just like sheep and to lick their hands just like a dog. Verses are not meant to be done in order to say that one is happy or sad, but to be helpful for the world to teach it that Nature is beautiful, that life is a duty, that death is not ugly, that no one must not be sad nor be a coward, as long as there are books in bookstores, and light in the sky, and friends, and mothers. Whoever feels sorrow, read Parallel Lives by Plutarch, which give one the will of being like those earlier men, and even better, because earth has now lived even more, and one can be a human of more love and care. Everything was earlier accomplished with the fists: now the strength is in knowledge, more than in the punches, but still, it is good to learn to defend oneself, because there are always senseless people in the world, and because strength gives health, and because one must be ready to fight whenever a criminal people wants to come and steal our people. That is what having a strong body is good for, but for everything else in life, strength is in knowing a lot, just like Little Finger says. In times of Romero, the victorious of the siege who entered Troy was not Ajax, the one with the shield, nor Achilles, the one with the spear, nor Diomedes, the one with the chariot, but Ulysses, who was the man of wit, and who made peace with the envious, and thought quickly what to the others had not occurred.
José Martí
The Golden Age, number 1, last page
















