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How art thou fallen, O son of the morning

A possibility, a formula, a breath you were

a reed shaken by a wind, an animal whose heart did tremble

now a man full of ardent bewilderment

The light shineth in darkness,

and the darkness comprehended it not

But you made us to realize

all, yourself, divine madness, a tone in silence

the voice unbroken, that resounds throughout eternities,

into divine madness

This golden thread have I followed through the labyrinth of self

Into you it leads, O silent guardian of great events

the angel of death you are, the lord of life

myself, but utterly real

Your brow is crowned with the garland of wisdom

and your face glows like a forge

your garment is me and her

my thoughts only echoes of your words

Vos estis lux mundi

Non potest civitas abscondi

supra montem posita

supra montem posita