Happy Shostakovich Day 2K8

My verses, written so early
That even I didn't know yet that I was a poet;
Gushing forth, like splashes from a fountain,
Like sparks from rockets;

Rushing, like little devils
Into a sanctuary of solemnity and incense;
My verses on youth and death --
Unread verses! --

Scattered about in the dust of shops
(Where no one bought them, and no one buys them!),
My verses, like precious wines,
Will have their time!

- Marina Tsvetaeva, "My Poems", trans. Laurence R. Richter. See also Shostakovich's musical setting in his opus 143.

Here's hoping all of your Art makes it out into the world with a minimum of hardship.