What is a tomb? A mark of freedom bursting on us all,
by which, now freed from prison of this earthly life
and all the bars it places on true happiness, we rise
to know a thing unknown beneath this earthly sun.
For all of human joy a limit soon will reach,
some ceiling made of steel, a violent bound,
and never shall we break it; weakling human hands
too fleshly are to smash it. Thus we wait and wait
until the great dark angel with his deeply violet wings
brings evening to our eyes and, reaching out, destroys our sky.
Yes, human joy has bounds until those bounds are made to die.
