Tell us, poet, what it is you do? – I praise.
But the deathly and the monstrous,
how do you accept them, bear them? – I praise.
But the nameless, anonymous.
how then, poet, do you summon them? – I praise.
What is your right, in all disguises,
in every mask, to be true? – I praise.
And how is it the still and violent,
Like star and storm, know you? – Because I praise.
Rainer Maria Rilke
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