Euridike escaped from Orpheus’s days
and he fell asleep murmuring to her
in the slumber, “Rock me like a babe,
in the bosom of the music, shake me,
but break me into pieces and roll me,
roll me, roll me like a cork on the waves,
roll me like a clap of thunder like a stone
on the slope.” “That’s not possible because
our acts are a forest of questions I am
a question and you are another question,
the hand of God indefatigably, always
draws new universes of questions, but
I am Persephone and I don’t remember
anything from the world with light,”
the echo resounded in his ears. What
is beyond this gate nobody knows
beyond only a breath is heard.
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