Let Me Not Live Too Long
Never will my crumbling tongue hug the drying sides of the basin,
Slaying the last, delicate drops.
Fire have I tasted;
It has flicked me but never burnt—
I shall leave it before it breaks into me.
One flame will I wrap about my browned skin—a deed accomplished—
To speak to me on the way.
Then will I go quickly, lest the other fire-beings scorch my slow feet.