Perhaps the poet will then come back again and sing.

And do not the other poets sing of the same?

Was this indeed the place of which the ancient poet sang?

I understood, for a brief moment, why poets sing of such things.

"My death, when it comes, will be one that the poets sing of."

After all, birds do naturally what poets dream of: they sing.

It is not one of which the poets sing.

The poets do not sing of this, either, how death begets the urge toward life.

The poet picked it up and sang another song.

Over lunch, the poet sang a poem about the poor and the hardships that they face.