THE WORD

THE WORD


Well! Was sagst du?
I think I know better, but it is God Who knows,
The one dimensionality -- the real tragedy --
The empty when we call upon the soul.

But, sweetheart, Hej! I tell you now.
Forget it! Fly straight! Think of the Frick,
with its fabulous El Greco,
Small though the painting is, it amply captures the fury
When Jesus castigates the money changers,
Das wort ist klar!

No man may serve two masters.
God loves the prisoner, the downcast, the lame.
He loves the lilies of the field.
Grass need not care how it may clothe itself.

Though great it may be to be King, what profit in it,
When the first shall be last and those with least,
Most, and beggars shall inherit the earth,
And children be fountains of wisdom,
And rabbis know not the Lord
when He stands before them?