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Strolling all alone ... across the ancient cemetery ...-
tell me, isnand't everything here ... of a timeless green?!
i see that several visitors are also gathered here,
having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard ... just like me.
I keep a candle burning for myselfe, so i wonand't feel all alone;
we should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all.
A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills,
felling everybody ... as it crawls upon the monuments ...-
only i escape its power, for the moment seem immune;
yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb
are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain:
andquot;the dead are furious with you!
as youand're wasting your precious time!andquot;
Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls;
i hear the dead are calling: andquot;sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!andquot;
These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us
they are the silent witnesses of a season about to pass;
i cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring lifeand's finiteness,
that i am filled with fear and worry ... and so much shame because of this.
Well, everything i see, yes all the images are blurred,
itand's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world.
how should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored,
considering the dreadful blindness with which i have been born.
We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all;
i hear the dead are calling: andquot;sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours ...
... right before the dawn!andquot;
Sopor Aeternus
Consolatrix has left the building
Consolatrix has left the building
Strolling all alone ... across the ancient cemetery ...-
tell me, isnand't everything here ... of a timeless green?!
i see that several visitors are also gathered here,
having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard ... just like me.
I keep a candle burning for myselfe, so i wonand't feel all alone;
we should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all.
A leaden weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills,
felling everybody ... as it crawls upon the monuments ...-
only i escape its power, for the moment seem immune;
yet, two elderly ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb
are scolding me, so filled with anger, filled with envy and disdain:
andquot;the dead are furious with you!
as youand're wasting your precious time!andquot;
Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls;
i hear the dead are calling: andquot;sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!andquot;
These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us
they are the silent witnesses of a season about to pass;
i cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring lifeand's finiteness,
that i am filled with fear and worry ... and so much shame because of this.
Well, everything i see, yes all the images are blurred,
itand's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world.
how should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored,
considering the dreadful blindness with which i have been born.
We should have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all;
i hear the dead are calling: andquot;sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours ...
... right before the dawn!andquot;
