Clouds part above the bastard
to welcome you on high,
clouds so stately
you could have never conquered
for all your human valor.
While you ascend
to those ultimate giants
the little men below so dear to you
are raising prayers
to timeless gods of rock and ice.
Goodbye,
noble Sir Percival,
the Grail you won to us,
as formidable and austere as ever,
greets its humble master.
We salute you,
knocker of giants,
mindful of how small we are,
how greater than we thought your feat,
how grand your soul.