In this theater of the human heart
I mourn the dead,
And what was not.

I fell in love, did not trust her;
Sent her away, now doubt my judgment;
Worry about her, and know not where she is.

No poetry in that,
No meter,
Plainly spoken.

Yet—
To have sinned against love:
The ancient horror.

You laugh?
Yes, it is comedy,
And true,
So tragic,
And deadly,
This play.

But laugh carefully,
And do not forget:

Fear is a deep well without bottom,
And hell is falling without end,
And there is no salvation in an age without oracles,
But there is sin.

(Prague — August 13, 2001)