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Insufficient are my thanks, so small
that even uttering them seems out of place
a pebble being compared to Everest’s face;
his affection filling all in all
causing me a rare humility.
Why write a sonnet, then, when he has died?
Because some tribute ought not be denied
even ‘though beyond the soul’s ability.
I live because of love quite
undeserved
because a person gave his heart to me
and not returned in similar degree
for different were the things I served.
Rest in peace and we, with Christ,
arise
in glory, when the final day arrives.
Midi: Russian Contakion
Background: Mount Everest
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