Cry for More

I am going whether in rain or heat,
and sometimes

my voice seems strange as if
it were alien to me,

I'm not certain whose voice is crying:
I cry to sustain me.
The poets cry for more.

In the end I cover both my eyes;
there in my hands as if at rest,
one may think I had place
upon to lay my head.


(Blackout of The Song Of The Beggar by Rainer Maria Rilke)