Life experience out loud
They speak and write in words.
Before the ear of grain sheds,
The scythe cuts the stem.

Poets die earlier —
They fill the granaries of heaven,
Their unfinished sonnets
Must still be kept for eternity.

I drink from the root, am drunk up by the sun,
I submit to a higher will —
They will declare the winner
The straw in the field,
And the grain in the barn.