Lord, the night has come and our soul is fallen.
Great was the storm and the will!
What is left to us today, in hostile silence,
Is a universal sea and saudade.
But if the flame, that life created within us,
If there is still life, it is not yet out.
The deathly cold covered it in ash:
The hand of the wind may yet raise still.
Give the breath, the breeze - or misfortune or anxiety-
With which the flame of endeavour is moved again,
And we shall again conquer the Distance-
Of the sea or some other, but let it be ours!