Muse, why, why are you silent now? On the Aegean Sea, you sang of heroes and beauties, of the Troy War In the ancient Orient, you sang “Guanju”--an earliest love song* You grieved and wept for the sufferings of humanity You cried out and fought for his survival and libertyIn the snow-covered field outside Petersburg, you raised a pistol in a duel but fell under the muzzle of tyranny** Among the billows of the Atlantic Ocean, you broke the iron chains of a slaves boat*** You are Les Fleurs du Mal blossoming in Paris; you are the cat-like fog floating in Chicago****