Larenopfer

In the Cathedral

11 in tHE cAtHEdrAL The cathedral ceiling sparkles, walls around it wearing gems and ores; in the shadows brown a saint adores behind the glimmer of dim candles. From the stony wall suspended high wafts o’er an angel’s head a light, a silver drop, so white and bright, that hails a flame that will not die. And in a corner where rich goldembroidered drapes are hanging, there a beggar boy is standing, silent in his rags, begrimed and cold. For all its wealth, the church has brought him not a single blessing: faint, in doubt, he trembles as he stretches out his hand and whispers soft “Prosim!”10 ...