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IVO, Lêdo

Christ in São Paulo

On Christmas Eve

while the bells were ringing,

I saw Christ walking

on a street in São Paulo.

He was already a man when he was born,

swaddled in his manger

with solitude and death.

The white cold wind

whispered a secret:

—Life was brief

for men and gods,

a sigh of Christ

breathed in the darkness.

Carrying the cross,

Jesus went alone

all the way to Calvary.

No one followed him.

He was a luminous rumor

on a festive evening.

Jesus shivered.

The night was cold.

The open mouth of the subway,

submerged in fog,

swallowed his footsteps.