I would secretly like to be like all the others:
Not thinking thoughts in my head,
Only reaching out with rhymes in longing,
Only glimpsing with others a gentle seed,
Only shuddering in my silence.
I would speak out no more, no longer remain
Entrenched or lonely; do like all the others:
When at once, as if felled by lances of light,
The noisy crowd slips down to its knees,
Then lifts its heart like a monstrance
from out of its breast and blesses itself.