O tell us, poet, what it is you do? - I praise. But in the midst of deadly turmoil, what helps you endure, and how do you survive? - I praise. And that which nameless is, anonymous, how do you, poet, still call out to them? - I praise. Who grants your right to pose in any guise, wear any mask, and still remain sincere? - I praise. And that the stillness and the violence - like star and storm - know and acknowledge you? - because I praise.
After the German, by Albert Ernest Flemming