Tell a wise one
or else be silent
for the masked man will be mawkish right away
I praise what is truly alive
what longs to be burned to death.
In the calm waters of love nights
where you were begotten
where you have begotten
a strange feeling comes over you
you see the silent candle burning
distance does not make you falter now
flying, arriving in magic
you are the moth
and you are gone
whoever has not experienced this
to die and so to grow
is but a troubled visitor
on a lonely planet

Goethe, translation: Robert Bly