I am content because before me looms the hope of love.
I do not have it; I do not yet have it.
It is a bird strong enough to lead me by the rope it bites;
unless I pull, it is strong enough for me.
I do worry the end of my days might come
and I will not yet have it. But even then I will be brave
upon my deathbed, and why shouldn’t I be?
I held things here, and I felt them.
And to all I felt I will whisper hosanna for goodbye.
It is sweet to think of myself, alone at that very moment,
able to say such a thing
to all that was my life, and to all that was not.