If I lived a thousand years, old man,
I still could not be you
but I wish and I wish and I wish
that some wishes would come true
and live the way you do.

You are the light at tunnel’s end –
what Eberlin had hoped to be.
Despite his never ending sorrow
and his differences with me,
he admired you secretly.

A Christmas Pageant penned your name
amidst annoying calls for cake.
Immortality became your fate
as the God-child, quite awake,
made you what only he could make.

Pierre, he sends his best regards
and his deepest gratitude
He was the light at tunnel’s end
Inheriting your attitude
of course, depending on his mood.

As for me, it is quite clear
I see you with a sense of pride.
You are immortal, I am not –
In my heart, you shall reside
long after parts of me have died.