But it’s nevertheless hospitable
In its more modest home.
And if a stranger
Should come to her,
Shipwrecked or homesick
Or grieving for a departed friend,
She’ll gladly listen, and her
Offspring will as well, the voices
In the hot grove, so that where sands blow
And cracks the tops of the fields,
They hear him, these sounds,
And lovingly echo the man’s grief.
Thus she once looked after
The prophet that was loved by God,
Who in his holy youth
Had walked together inseparably
With the Son of the Highest, because
The Storm-Bearer loved the simplicity of his disciple.
And so that attentive man looked upon the countenance
Of the god directly, there at the mystery of the wine,
Where they sat together at the hour of the banquet,
And the Lord, quietly foreknowing in his great spirit,
Proclaimed his death, the final act of love,
For at that time he had no adequate words
Of kindness, as he thought, to express
And allay the raging of the world.
For all is good. Then he died. Much
Could be said about this. At the end
His friends recognized how joyous
He appeared, and how victorious,
Continues German text Home All poems
The author of the Book of Revelation is referenced here, who was earlier understood to be John the Apostle.
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