Franz Werfel (10 September 1890 – 26 August 1945 / Prague)

So many play with you,
You play with the many,
But you never see me
There in the background,
By you around the clock
With my frozen-up mouth
And my iron-hard face.

Those you gladly amuse,
They make things work smoothly,
They don't get in my way.
There's always someone new,
And there's no one I shun,
For I'm the faithful one,
And you I can bet on.

Once you become old hat,
Passé, of no interest,
And no one's around you,
Then I'll turn to you,
To earn and to end,
And in my firm hands
I'll carry you over my dark sea.