Sonnets to Orpheus, Part I, 9

Only he who has also raised
his lyre among shadows
may find his way back
to infinite praise.

Only he who has eaten with the dead
from their strores of poppy
will never again lose
the softest chord.

And though the pool's refection
often blurs us:
Know the image.

Only in the doube realm
do the voices become
eternal and mild.