The little candle stood in the day,
silently shedding his light,
He wept ceaselessly for the night,
At last when the night arrived,
Only then he was remarked,
He happily burnt himself through the dark.
Now, disfigured, his body lay
In a blissful sleep away
Though forgotten, replaced,
There are no traces of dismay,
After all the only happiness he knew,
Was the fatal flame he grew
And even though it had him killed
Through the darkness, he led you.