Tell a wise person or else keep silent.
For the mass man will mock it right away.
I praise what is truly alive,
What longs to be burned to death.
In the calm waters of the love nights
Where you were begotten
Where you have begotten
A strange feeling comes over you
When you see the silent candle burning.
Now, no longer caught
In the obsession with darkness
Desire for higher love-making
Sweeps you upward.
Distance does not make you
Falter now, flying
Arriving in magic
You are the moth and you are gone.
So long as you have not
Experienced this:
To die and so to grow
You are only a troubled guest
On the dark earth.
Goethe
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