Words dipped red in poetry,
Carved into marble mysteries,
Basking beneath her gilded majesty—
A humble request,
From a writer left in quiet distress,
Still chasing his next conquest.

Not fame of fleeting days,
But that forged in immortality's blaze—
A name still whispered, still sung,
Inked deep, etched on every tongue.
Pierced into the human heart,
Fortified within the womb of art—
The artist and his immortal part.