A Poet's Hope is in Dying   Inside my heart a mighty stallion is being broken     I do not know if this is a great growing or a terrible defeat The priest turns to accept the offering  An enchanting woman peers in the window to watch I'm not quite sure whether to carry out the act Many voices cry out I cannot hear the great song clearly I have heard no incomparable word that has not fallen and broken a thousand times I have had no final vision without a feeling of mirage One thing I do know There is no sacrifice without a victim    A Poets hope is in dying   It seems the only hope is to die to all concern, particularly for a poet