How sorcerors' eyes would gleam
if they'd stared towards this pyre.
In the glow, soil-smothered bones smoulder,
and manifold rings of forests of trees
are made ashen by raging fire.
Let us heap on load after load
and watch as the flames ascend,
look as they lick against the roof of the sky,
and rise further, and cover the stars
and the heavens from which they suspend.
Now we circle around the bonfire,
and though the smoke in our eyes stings,
it doesn't stop us from smiling
and we'll grin whilst our bodies are heated
and ‘til the fire's extinct.