Oh little red fire,
How beautiful is your flame.
That walks on dry bushes,
And leaves a black burnt stain.

Oh little red flame,
Moving in trails like a train.
And all you consume is oxygen,
So your health can be retained.

Oh little red flame,
What is your name?
What are you to be?
Can your light be obtained.

Oh little red flame,
Your fire cannot be reclaimed.
For there is no made study,
For your death or pain.