Oh say, poet, what is it that you do?
-- I praise.
But what of the deadly and monstrous,
how do you endure all this, how do you take it in?
- I praise.
But the nameless, the anonymous,
how, despite it all, do you keep calling to them, poet?
- I praise.
Where does it come from, your claim to be true
in every guise and in each mask?
- I praise.
And that the stillness and turbulence
know you like star and storm?
- Because I praise.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke