Near to the Wild Heart

by Clarice Lispector

From the somber depths the merciless impulse ablaze, life rising up again formless, audacious, miserable. A dry sob as if she had been shaken, joy beaming in her chest intense, unbearable, oh the whirlwind.

I will be strong like the soul of an animal and when I speak my words will be unthought and slow, not lightly felt, not full of yearning for humanity, not the past corrupting the future!

only then will I live bigger than in my childhood, I will be as brutal and misshapen as a rock, I will be as light and vague as something felt and not understood, I will surpass myself in waves, ah, Lord, and may everything come and fall upon me, even the incomprehension of myself at certain white moments because all I have to do is comply with myself and then nothing will block my path until death-without-fear, from any struggle or rest I will rise up as strong and beautiful as a young horse.