On the Death of John Styka

Why mourn his death and shed so many tears,
Since he left radiant;
Hands full of the blessings his soul possessed,
To return them to his God.
His heart was fervent, his mind magnificent,
His genius accessible to all;
The works he created, great and prophetic,
Remain alive through us.
Few knew, like him, how to work tirelessly
To maintain Polish art.
Noble, he fell asleep, fulfilling his task,
And never resting.
An eagle, he ascended to the heights of the peaks
Of which his humanity dreamed.
He fearlessly crossed the earthly abysses
To regain his freedom.

Rome, April 28, 1925.
ANDRÉE DEVILNA.

• Jan Styka