The Colombian poet hung up on the literal meaning reads poems filled with doves. There’s no counting the number of doves in his poetry and they all pretend to look for breadcrumbs. You being an allegory buff see them as a matter of symbols - the albatrosses and the seagulls and the crows and so on. You raise your hand to ask a question. At that moment, the poet extends one arm: from his stretched-out sleeve issues a cloud of doves tame wild doves demoted to pigeons wood pigeons with their eyes laminated like retired surgeons. Out pops a turtledove on shore leave. The flock of birds invades the room it flies around the chairs it pretends to look for breadcrumbs. You hope for the trick of an English director but soon rec...