The flame says to the cypress:
“When I see how calm,
how full of pride you are,
something inside me goes wild –
How can one live this awesome life
without a touch of madness,
of spirit,
of imagination,
of freedom,
with only a grim, ancient pride?
If I could, I would burn down
the establishment
that we call the seasons,
along with your cursed dependence
on earth and air and sun,
on rain and dew.”

The cypress does not answer.
He knows there is madness in him,
and freedom,
and imagination,
and spirit.
But the flame will not understand,
the flame will not believe.