Joyful is he who one good day leaves, humble,

and saunters through the streets, like on so many past days

of his life, expecting nothing

and suddenly —what’s this? — he looks up

and can see; puts his ear to the world and he can hear;

walks and feels, climbing among his steps,

earth’s love, and goes ahead and opens

his true workshop, and in his hands

his craft shines, clean, and he offers it to us,

gladly because he loves, and goes to work

trembling like a small boy taking communion

bursting out of his skin, and then

realizing how simple

it’s all been —his wages earned already—

he comes back home, elated, and feels that it is someone

who is grasping the door knob, and it’s not all in vain.