Selfhood is daring in power, but has no pride,
If pride there be, it is mingled with modesty.
Love always seeks a heart alive and brave,
The eagle hates to look at a lifeless prey.
My verse is neither soft nor gentle in tone,
It is the trumpet’s sound on the day of doom.
I will not ask the West to inspire my song.
For the pure in soul despise a borrowed light.
My story is brief and simple to relate,
A constant anxiety, both in the absence and presence.