Cathedrals, galleries, voices and stained glass;
In another time I lived the posterity of these verses;
Tenor, I grew up among the sopranos; and sang to their
Whiteness and delicacy; romantic, I had the temple of those
Of my kind; sonorous alcoves and singers and dressing rooms,
And because of veneration I died; through shy stages
And grandiose concert halls I wandered between the lives;
And in later seasons I sang dissonant and distant;
Those who listened to me I shut up
And in previous seasons I loved sharply and dreary;
Those who loved me I kill;
This is the reason why I fear the dagger and love;
This is the reason why I write such a tender poem
Because I fear the voice and the pain
In my forgotten language.
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