In Rudolf’s court, on a dour night
Kepler turned to stone
as he heard tell that a new star shone,
in Serpentius’ foot. Its light
shone forth, a striking sight,
even in the heat of noon, blown
aloft on a stellar wind, echoing the moan
in Kepler’s soul, expecting a fight.
Ah, Lodovico! Cry no more
for the heavens are not fixed.
The gyring power of the celestial shore
shall hold us all transfixed
until the day we begin to explore
the stars and what’s betwixt.