The flame is dying out already. But you have not seen anything, you are only sinking Deeper and deeper into the earth. Since the seaside Road and the waves, and the stars Whirling in the wind Are getting restless and turning away from you. You are not a conch cast ashore, that implores The tide to bring it back to the deep. It is barren - only sand buzzes inside it.
Reminiscences lead it only back and back.
Short from a drawn bow, free From lingering and mourning, you are flying to the aim Without farewells. From the abyss of darkness You are driving the trunk of flames Like a wedge into space. And the space yields to you. Its perpetual change keeps the stem stable And because of that branches are spreading. Waves of chaos Are attacking you, but hidden in the root You accumulate power and then more along The arteries of the trunk to become A passionate bud.