Head without a will of its own,
Blindfolded and bandaged eyes
As though returning from war;
This orb we stroke with our minds,
This round book of beginnings,
This sphere we kiss like the earth,
This earth flying into eternity;
A gift passed one to another,
Headed like a thought
That is thought by a friend
At the instant of the thought;
This world that with love
Wins the game it loses,
That is discovered by a child
Amid the rubble of chaos
In the stadium of joy-for-itself.

Our German
Midfield general
His legs could march to Stalingrad
No one was more fanatical
About football
Bavarian Aryan Manfred
Bundesliga youth
Manfred invaded space
Engineered perfect goals
Was our Beethoven
And bomber
Indestructible
As a thing-in-itself

Three brain tumors
Killed Manfred
Leaving devastation
In the field of play