You were not only a passer by
on these roads without end
but as soon as you saw
wet feet from the cold
snow sweeper,
you decided to set up your easel
not to forget
the man under the old tower
covered with snow.
He stared at you
without really understanding
your paradoxical compassion
and continuing his work
you carried him with you
in one of those colored linens
with a white winter.