1. |
The Sleepless Stone
07:24
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A cold rectangle of the moonlight
Descend into the pitch-black realms
Agonising restlessness
A dweller in between the worlds
Not asleep nor awake
In reverie, the rivers collide
The stream incoherent and spastic
A shapeless mass slithering down into the chasm
Unlike the crow of Gautama, the ascetic
I cannot banish the stone from my sight
Unbearable sense of my weakness
Overpowers me and binds me
My body asleep, senses detached
The ever-occurring question
Who am I
Who is this I now
Again and again
With obscene persistence
An obstinate voice keeps insisting
Tireless as a shutter
Blown by the wind against the wall
Like distant recalls
There is no escape from the void
A hundred times I dare to object
A thousand times I deny
I voluntarily give up all resistance
I cast myself into the stream
Of endless interrogations
There is no escape from the voice.
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2. |
Rephaim
04:54
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Behold the fifth quarter
A district obscured and forgotten
Home of the restless shades
A heavy downpour
Waters both loathing and revulsion
All the strange people who dwell here
Human-like phantoms not born of woman
They drift through life with no will of their own
Animated by an invisible current
There is no one alive capable of laughing
The innocent times are long time past
Walls speak softly through vibration, cracks and smear
Old images keep surfacing like ominous sigils
Noises and murmurs
Withered laments
What an unexpected guest
This is the way he behaves when he feels at home
His book was speaking to me
Just as dreams can speak
A crown of red wood, the impregnation of souls
Words streamed from the unseen mouth
Took on life and came towards me
Alive yet without echoes
I can feel them drifting through me
Alive yet without echoes
I can feel them drifting through my very soul
Darkness has the upper hand
A firm grip on every corner, every street
Them houses outside
Worn stone and dripping wood
Emit incoherent howls
Nothing but a mere whisper
Crosses the threshold of perception.
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3. |
In Bone Incorruptible
06:20
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All I can hear is the wind
That omnipresent blow
Which makes lifeless objects move and events flow
Of which it says in the Bible
Thou hearest the sound thereof
But canst not tell whence it cometh
Whither it goeth
In the grip of catacombs
A room without an entrance
Where a tomblike silence rules in the winter or in May
Over the ones who have a reason to shun
The light of day
At first, nothing but darkness
Decaying soil and fungoid growth
Eight steps in all – the remains of an iron staircase
Each one at head height above the last
In regular lines – the patterns of the past
The precise shape of a hexagram
Entrapment
Ankle-deep in dust, a vault too old
The numbing slumber, the ruthless cold
Enveloped my flesh like a stifling, soft woollen cloak
That smudge of white – the Juggler
Staring at me with vacant eyes
As he went down into the grave, so he will rise up
And so will I.
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4. |
A Penitentiary Triptych
06:44
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A shameful walk through the lamplit streets
Framed for murder
The days crept by
Week followed sluggish week
Shivering all the time
When the sun reveals its careless face
Unbroken rows of iron doors with massive bolts
Barred windows
The palace of rot, a dreadful home
A cavity with a pestilential smell
In the middle of the prison yard
A bare half-dead tree –
We are alike
My nails – all torn
A despair-ridden heart bound in scorn
I stared out into the black murk outside
It stared back devoid of life and soul –
We are alike
The roaming one
Lend me your sight
These eyes can reach where I cannot reach
I counted the hours
Praying for them to pass
What did it matter
Whether I reached my end
On the gallows
Or by my own hand
A half-open mouth
A corpselike face
Lips slightly restless
Through them old words are born
I will follow the voice
To a casket or to a throne.
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5. |
Of Fragrance and Light
06:37
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The tinkle of glass
Red tongues of fire
A wild jubilant ecstasy
Coursing through my veins
One twist round wrist and leg
Behind the window
My past – a scorching flame
Hanging between heaven and earth
Head downwards, legs forming a cross
The rope twangs – stretch and creak
As I fall I grab the window-ledge
Smooth is the stone
Foremost of the dead
My throe is thine, each and every chain
As thy words become my words
The endless white trail
I shall forever reign.
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