Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize, unbearable pain throughout this bodys fabric as I in my spirit burned, see, I now burn in thee the wood that long resisted the advancing flames which thou kept flaring, I now am nourishing and burn in thee. My gentle and mild being through thy ruthless fury has turned into a raging hell that is not from here. Quite pure, quite free of future planning, I mounted the tangled funeral pyre built for my suffering, so sure of nothing more to buy for future needs, while in my heart the stored reserved kept silent. Is it still I, who there past all recognition burn? Memories I do not seize and bring inside O life! O living! O to be outside! And I in flames. And no one here who knows me ...
thou, quite, kept, burn, thee