---

With the eyes of one in horror

I first saw fire kill

The scent of bodies broiled

By my father´s will

And screams of the dying

Like iron gall did make

a black mark in my mind

which read:

„The human way is to burn“

Burn

If the old man was still living

I´d tell him he was right

The beauty of the flames

Oh, how they paint the night

The fire must be bigger

to fix the damage done

I watch the fingers dancing

And smell the wretched scum

as they burn

Burn