Fly, you dull beauty;
Dance around the fire.
Burn, you bright beauty;
Entice the moth closer.
Fatal passion drives you wild;
Nearer, nearer to the flame.
Mad possession grips your mind;
Farther, farther away from shame.
That altar of love, warm and bright;
Longing, longing for your coming.
That altar of love, such wondrous sight;
Waiting, waiting for your offering.
At last, the die is cast;
For near is near enough.
You moth, you dull beauty;
You flame, you bright beauty;
Have done what has to be done.
And the sweet stench of death,
Brought bitter taste of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem