ANTIGONE

ANTIGONE

The clock stroke two, finding me
after fourteen hours of audition
exhasted, disappointed, antigoneless,
with one more person to go.
At last... the final tiring amateur,I thought,
How wrong I was...
This poem is devoted to Pablo, who doubted so much whether we would ever be able to put on such a difficult tragedy. We cut 8,000 tickets in a weekend, Pablo!

But there she was
a talented immobility
for me to activate

A modern princess of Thebes
with the decent forehead
radiating passion
imposingly simple

And there she was
a mass of plasticined energy
for me to form

The invincibly frail adolescent
as cruelly sensitive an adult
melodically sensible
illegally moral

So there she was
a fertile valley of fresh earth
for me to till