Rolling over the grave laid Einstein,
If only he had an erased brain;
Such sorrows that stood in his way,
Through equations and a splendid bald head.
I shall see you over again?
Yet, the pain of mankind shall all but be kept hidden,
Raw and alive, we tread.
Along the road, the thorn was eroded,
But here lays a fresh thorn,
Ready with infinite greetings.
"Where have you been?"
The thorn asked.
"I don't know you... Have we met?"
Then the thorn was realized
"You pierced his head."
And now, that head of which was pierced,
Rules over the Earth in love; thou art fierce.
