Sacred Haven of Debauchery

My spirit is broken, and I am dejected.
For this verse is so skillfully crafted,
That I can no longer believe,
That Klov is stronger than the bards of Omsk.

I will have to eat a croissant,
Or maybe even a pain au chocolat,
Shamefully scraping the bread from it,
And disgracefully washing it down with tea.

I will not see the light of Valhalla,
I will not hear the ringing of coins.
In the morning, I will wake up before dawn,
And tell everyone: "I am not a poet."

But for now, I will eat
Croissants, for there is a commandment:
Every unsuccessful poet
Must eat one each.