ordered their estates

all that is good has been released from pain
we ask no more of morning than the light
but get for effort both the wind and spite
and in the end no dragon will be slain
the hungry peasant sees the longed-for grain
turned into something smelly by the blight
and darker monsters stalk the winter night
than know the secret voices of the rain
echoes of ancient musics haunt our days
while in old libraries the scholars seek
the secrets that the wise knew how to hide
another citadel we wish to raise
knowing that we are truly very weak
but filled by an unconquerable pride