The Fire of Love
Drawn, drawn, drawn, like a moth to the flame,
my poor heart flutters, wings ablaze.
Sad thing! If only it knew!
The flame burns only the dross.
The heart itself becomes the flame.
Consumed by love, the heart grows bright.
From love’s pure light,
the flame ignites
A secret fire in kindred hearts.
From heart to heart the fire spreads;
by love alone, the pyre’s fed.
The sacred fire lights all the world,
may all hearts its flame enfurl!