Poem By Alfred Behrmann
To Herbert, from Volterra Congedo. A last look and clasping of hands.
Many then are the ways to darkness: on foot,
On horseback, by chariot, carriage, or boat.
With music sometimes, sometimes a quiet cortege,
Lasa, the winged, as guide or the bearded god,
Hammer in hand. Short, we think, were your days,
A lease claimed from anguish. Now you go
Unto other soil, no longer teaching any man
To bear his allotted part.