You are far off, stranger mine,
Yet to you I raise my cry;
In the clouds the candles shine.
Escort through the crimson sky.

O my stranger, quickly stare
To the right with shining gaze;
For a crafty dragon here
Is my master many days.

And the dragon in his den
Shows no ruth or law to men.
And his whip hangs on the wall
That I may not sing at all.

That winged dragon tortures me.
Teaches me humility,
To forget my laugh’s proud zest.
To be better than the rest.

O sweet stranger, hear oh hear
In a distant place my cry,
So that you may learn to share
In my grief before I die.