The Church at Stülpe
O'er lantern and eaves the twilight glow
Shimmers all over the cov'ring of snow;
On the roof of the tower, around its top,
The winter wind howls and keens its woe!
With hurried step I gain the Church door
And open the lock in the dark, before
I switch on the light as fast as I can,
And radiant glow spreads over the floor.
In folded robe o'er foot and hand
Stands the noble lady next to her man,
In armour, yet, and nunnery garb
The crucified 's worshipped by the founders' grand.
Two winged shrines, carved with care,
Are standing in the sanctuary, there,
They draw one's gaze to the altar high,
In baroque splendour rising, fair.
The ceiling is vaulted, its wonder astounds,
Deep blue cloud in the heavens abounds;
Trumpet tones fill the whole of the space,
A quartet of angels' song resounds.
Hark, as each voice sings out the rhyme!
They all achieve an harmonious chime,
So the innermost strings of one's very soul
Are made to vibrate together in time.
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)