Grab my heart in your great fist,

And squeeze it into life, or death,

For I feel not what's worst or best,

And what remains of my warm breath.

Indeed, I need your hold and might

Until I figure what I own,

Morning stabbing the heart of night,

To show me what the wind has blown.

I shall travel East and West

And ask the help of shining stars,

To find my way to Spirit of quest,

That won't be worthy if not far.

I won't befool myself again

Into sadness or despair.

All I'll conquer, for no fame,

But my heart, you conquer there.