There lives in man a fire which lies,
Behind our eyes and in our skin;
Upon our tongue the birdie sings
To shake the world
To move all things
To light the coal-cold night
With purple flame,
With leaping golden flame;

It touches on another’s breast
Who smiles at you,
Who calls your name;

Farce is life for man so dark,
So unconvinced, so full with doubt as he
Amidst the hours, months and years
When all the fire’s
Gone out.