The poem
Many years have I still to burn, detained Like a candle flame on this body; but I enshine A darkness within me, a presence which sleeps contained In my flame of living, her soul enfolded in mine.
And through these years, while I burn on the fuel of life, What matter the stuff I lick up in my living flame, Seeing I keep in the fire-core, inviolate, A night where she dreams my dreams for me, ever the same.