I walk toward Doom and all before me is dark;
There is nothing between me and this wheel of fire.
All these flames are cold; there burns not even one spark
That can light this ambivalent destiny’s pyre.
An ally has borne me across these miles of strife
But the one has haunted even his quiet might
And all that comes to last of his and my life
Is a hope: bereft of reason and out of sight.