I will rise and go
Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth
Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armed men.
What this may be I know not, but I know
That, wheresoe’er I am by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Oenone (last lines)  (of a book-length but beautiful and haunting poem)

Christa Wolf’s Cassandra is, by the way, still on my top twenty list of books I liked the best.