Fire

Not like the willow tree rots in the swamp
Do I want pass away. My death

Be like the oak's on high which is consumed
By lightnings fiery breath.

Give me the flaming fire! For fish and frogs
The water might be good enough.

For poetasters too, who froglike croak
Their labored doggerel like stuff-

A flaming fire! Thou art my element!

Throughout the days of long ago
My body often froze, my soul howe'er
Was e'er surcharged with fiery glow.
Come, pretty little maid. I love thee well
Come, passionately I love thee!
But fiery be thyself, or else: good-bye
My love, we two can not agree.
Innkeeper, bring a jug of wine! but heed:
Good wine! If watery" at all.
That jug flies either at thy head or I

Shall promptly smash it on the wall.

This is the only life that's worth to live:
With fiery maid and fiery wine!

And what I have almost forgot to name:
We must not miss, the song divine.

Then sing a song! a fiery song! The tongue
Shall rot within the human frame

Which can not sing a song from which the heart
Is not inspired by holy flame.
Not like the willow tree rots in the swamp
Do I want pass away. My death

Be like the oak's on high which is consumed
By lightning's fiery breath.