(Mussorgsky, Lake)

Come forth, from love's spire
Born in life's fire,
Born in life's fire.
Come forth, from love's spire
In the burning, all are [of our] yearning,
for life to be.
And in pain there will [must] be gain,
New Life!

Stirring in, salty streams
And dark hidden seams
Where the fossil sun gleams.

They were, sent from [to] the gates
Ride the tides of fate
Ride the tides of fate.
They were, sent from [to] the gates,
In the burning all are [of our] yearning,
For life to be.

There's no end to my life,
No beginning to my death:
Death is life.