Ubermensch

Poet

We left the poet’s house for last. When we entered

the verses, lighter than thoughts, flew in mid-air

in a harmonious rhythm opposite our wild youth.

We needed to hide our flowing tears and we wanted to look

elsewhere, this new world not to insult our human

littleness, as though we seek to avoid the responsibility

of our age and there were lots of things we could still

learn: the endurance of time opposite the old people’s

stooping backs while the poet structured his verses

with care and ended them with a polemic epode.

Übermensch took the poet’s hand as if after a long

absence He had found His most familiar face. The poet

still a beardless youth though emotional before

the Übermensch.