To feign madness lightly
But he saw through it and helped
On the banks of the Neckar he let
His old friend lie down and laugh
For thirty-five years not alone
Not the laughter of fools who mourn
But the laughter of the river itself
Passing under ancient bridges
As it makes its way and widens
Into rippleless calm expanses
Seizing the sky as its own
The mad light of dawn
Which rises up every day
And then so mysteriously is gone
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