You were looking everywhere
inside your files
for the secret text
the oratorio of loneliness,
the one you wrote
in different winters
of wild poetry
when you had to say
these that were silenced
by all others.
And when you found it
you slowly began
to read to me
the work of a lifetime
and the life of a work
with hesitation
so that you wouldn’t tire me out
and every now and then,
you watched sideways
the gaze of intelligence.
The text was in pain
but it did not surrender
and the voice changed
colors and tone
depending on whether
Cassandra or the Choir talked,
it overcame the obstacles
with a smile
or a shared laughter
through grains of tears.