Who am I, what am I,My heart's woes,
In the mystic darkness,
crying and wailing
To the sleeping child
Suppressed by the mystic warmth
The mystic warmth,
Filling me with blind faith,
draws me closer to the dangling flames.,
oh what a sweet sensation!
slowly but surely, setting my soul ablaze.
From hence on, I can only become cold,
And yearn for the mystic warmth.
I don't blame the mystic warmth,
If only I had kept away from its alluring presence,
For one thing leads to another,
And virtuous acts breed good habits,
Virtue, only a few possess,
Is the only way men of great resolve set themselves apiece.
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