To praise is the whole thing! A man who can praise
Comes toward us like oar out of the silences
of rock. His heart, that dies, presses out
For others a wine that is fresh forever.
When the god's energy takes hold of him,
His voice never collapses in the dust.
Everything turns to vineyards, everything turns to grapes,
Made ready for harvest by his powerful devotion.
The mold in the catacomb of the king
Does not suggest that his praising is lies, nor
The fact that the gods cast shadows.
He is one of the servants who does not go away,
Who still holds through the doors
Of the tomb trays of shining fruit.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
(translation by Robert Bly)