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.