Song from the Highest Tower

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

I have waited so long

That at length I forget

And leave unto heaven

My fear and regret

A sick thirst

Darkens my veins

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

So the green field, to oblivion falls, overgrown, flowering

With incense and weeds and the cruel noise of dirty flies

Let it come, let it come! The season we can love!

I loved the desert, burnt orchards

Tired old shops, warm drinks

I dragged myself through stinking alleys

And with my eyes closed

I offered myself to the Sun

The God of fire