Eodem Anno Pons Ruptus Est

Joy!
There is joy, there really is.
And he felt it not as something merciless
which rushes on us
and puts out our unguarded fire
nor as a vertigo which in the double light of irony
brings us a bottle and shoes to make us dance -
no, what he felt was a quiet, simple, unfounded joy,
given rather than granted for an hour,
the joy of a man walking over a bridge
who will go on singing for ever...
But it was enough for the wind to toss a withered leaf
at his feet
and the bridge was overloaded.