Like man casts stones into fire,
So your heart doth, enflamed,
Take in the breadth of life, though
It\'s made of clay.
Purple crystal amber-rose waxes,
Indignant, marries itself with the
Azure sea and the dark-sapphire sky.
Your eyes, now blossomed, reflect
The world.
Though cold matter\'s like petrified wood
To you, ever-life, still, the ambrosia of the
Earth, the wells of the world call you, murmur
Your name - Golem.
And though your soul, cast in crystal, wills
To fly and, in lofty joy, observe the world
From afar, matter chains you, calls you the
Master of its home.
And \'tis you, Golem, Sun-Son, whose hands
Shape and mold, whose fire, transmuted, is
Breathed into the all-dead; animating life,
Eminating happiness, a gift to all-creation!
So seek not the Alpine peaks, nor the high
Atmosphere, void of air, of flame. The earth
Is yours, a gift from High Heavens, and the
Forests of old your home; keep it so, and do
Not, in madness, make away with your gifts
Into the depths of the sky, for remember;
Earth-bound\'s your fire, and mortal your heart,
The earth; your mother, and the funerary hall.