Bring to me all that’s of no use to others:
My fire must burn it all!
I lure life, and I lure death
As weightless gifts to my fire.
Fire loves light-weighted things:
Last year’s brushwood, wreathes, words.
Fire blazes from this kind of food.
You will rise from it purer than ash!
I am the Phoenix; only in the fire I sing.
Provide for my miraculous life!
I burn high–and I burn to the ground.
From now on let your nights be light-filled.
The icy fire–the fiery fount.
I hold high my tall form,
I hold high my high rank
Of Confidante and Heiress!
September 2, 1918