Swimming in the grief pools
behind his almond-shaped eyes
he hears, faintly at first, how
Terror transmutes into joy
like a nightflower unfolding
to the first touch of dawnlight.
His own voice joins the chorus
(joy, beautiful spark of the gods)
of brothers above the starry canopy**.
*Joy, beautiful spark of the gods!
**Brüder, über’m Sternenzelt