TOWERS OF GOD! POETS!
Towers of God! Poets!
Lightning rods of heaven
that resist the fierce storms
like ordinary mountains,
like peaks in the wilderness!
breakwaters of evernight!
Magic hope foretells
the day when the traitorous siren
will die on her musical rock.
Hope! Let us still hope!
Still hope. The bestial element
consoles itself with its hatred
of blessed poetry, hurling
insults from race to race.
The rebellion from below
is against excellence
the cannibal waits for his chunk of flesh
with red guns and sharpened teeth.
Towers, fasten a smile to your banner.
Confront this evil and suspicion
with a proud puff of the breeze
and the tranquillity of the sea and sky -