English poem
Ix
Then I wrenched from my soul a wild glory Of music delirious with words, Of music that wailed a soul's story, And trembled with god-uttered words, Or fell like the battling of swords. And in with it mixed all the beauty Of farewells and ravenous sighs, The heart that was broken for booty, Tears, rapture to know that one dies, Hell, heaven and laughter and cries.