I’d like to burn all the dross of my human clay,
So that I could take my flight to heaven,
Making myself divine, like Alcmene’s son,
Hercules, joining the gods, all ablaze.
Already my spirit, longing for better ways,
Paces through my flesh, rebelliously,
And already brings the victim fuel to feed
His immolation in your vision’s rays.
O holy pyre, O flame that’s nourished by
A fire divine, may your fierce heart now burn
My familiar surface so completely, I,
Free and naked, might with a single flight
Rise, beyond the sky, to adore in turn
That other beauty from which your own derives.