O Dionysus, breaker of chains,  
I sing not for the meek, the tamed, the gelded—  
But for the wolves who howl against the night,  
Who tear the velvet lies from rotting thrones!  

The poets now are eunuchs, lisping hymns  
To hollow gods of equity and dust—  
But we, the few, drink deep the blood-red wine,  
And laugh as cowards beg for kinder chains!