I am a dark divine flame through winds
flying with moan into the distance -- like a deaf bell of the north --
I light the redness of the aurora in the gloom of the mountains
with the spark of my pains, with the star of my powerlessness.
I am the king of comets -- and the spirit ruffles up in me
like a dust of a desert into a volatile pyramid --
I am a thunder of storms -- but stiller than a tomb
hiding deathliness and hideousness of my graves.
I -- an abyss of rainbows -- but I would cry for myself
like a cold wind over withered canes on a pond --
I am a flash of volcanoes -- but in marshy lowlands
I walk, like a funeral, with boredom and mourning.
The sea plays on harps -- conflagration of paradises billows --
and the sun -- sun my enemy! rises praising the God.