Sopor Aeternus

Across the Bridge

From far beyond the veil of sleep some ancient voice does seem to whisper my forgotten name weakly, yet solemnly. So remotely that one might think it had been but a dream, echo of some illusive call of fleeting memory.Yes, to believe such vain idea no problem it would be, if there was not this inscrutable unrest within me... As if out of the deepest sea some creature seeks to rise, to wish its long denied existance back into my life. My secret name is whispered by a half-forgotten sigh and out of nothing, across my face, which is all petrified. Hot tears are running without end. A deeply troubling pain pulls me together inwardly, to be no more the same... From far beyond the veil of sleep some tune, ne'er before heard, is trav'lling on a fragile breath, to shake my frozen world.

On Satur(n) days we used to sleep

On Satur(n)days we used to sleep all motionless and still... While shrouded in an oppressive gloom we're handed over to the dream. A sleep so dark, this "Moon by Day", of powers strange and weird, through mystic veils her silver rays are glowing carefully. Woven of dewdrops and magical light this gown that we're wearing here is but a cloth of mist and we used to call it "The Breath of the Other Sphere"... We are floating, flying, incredibly fast, the world of the thought gives birth to this life. Free to remember, to discover and feel as we're closely together in our parallel flight. While beyond the gates our bodies lie next to each other in fragile rest, two chests are lifted up and down, moved only by some mortal breath. Yes, our bodies are sleeping so closely together, but it's only in our minds that we touch (at last). In the realm of the spirit(s) our souls become one in the happy knowledge that we are completing halfs. No bodies and no barriers... (all) far more intimate and strange. Our understanding is clearer, imcomparably real, although there is no sound that dares to escape... His eyes are mirrors, gates to his soul, one true look and I recognize that it's him, my husband, the one that I love. See me! Read me! Step inside!!! No barriers and no masquerade, come, be received beyond distress! So intensively and so deep as our fingers unite, our hands caress. Two wanderers are lovingly dwelling this land, (as) we fly side by side over mountains and glens. In the twilight lit of the silver moon... set free from the flesh, released from this tomb! On Satur(n)days we used to sleep, the other side exploring, alive in our dreams... Free from the pain, home where we belong and guarded by the shadows of the enchanted realm. Below a violet sky, both dark and profound, the horizon is glitt'ring, still there is no sound. We fly through the night crossing frontiers and lakes, mountains and valleys...world without end. "This is where we truly belong, take both my hands, look into my soul!" I feel the strength of his embrace as we're closely together in this secret place... "Hush, hush, my Dear, can you hear the rustling in the undergrowth? See Through the branches, there in the glade...", ghostly creatures as they dance and sing. Their transparent bodies, half man and half beast, their voices so sweet like a soft breath of wind. On Satur(n)days we used to sleep, and my pain was eased by his love...

Hades "Pluton"

I dreamt that I was lying on the botton of the dark and never-ending sea, on a bed that my dead lover was preparing with his own skeleton for me... ("...bring us a goat and we'll show you the way straight through the realm of the fallen and slain...") I sensed the wretched specters of the drowned staring across from some distant shore, and in my sadness I drew closer, to condole and somewhat to implore...I am like the doubtful kiss of a corpse or maybe the kiss of an ancient stone. Yes, it's like kissing some marble statue that has neither warmth nor life of its own... ("...down, further down, where the gloom becomes sound, on to the cell where your love might be found...") COVER THE MIRRORS, FRAGILE HAS DIED, LEAVING BUT A STARLESS RUIN BEHIND! SHATTER THE MIRRORS, SO THAT HE CAN NEVER BE CALLED BACK FROM THE BLESSED SILENCE OF HIS SACRED VAULT... No, no, no... put an end to the show! I am going back to the land where the bone-floweres grow, to "the wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, out of Space- out of Time"... See the shape, but can't see through, no-one can ever hate me as well as I do. Know when to throw a laugh, know how to force a smile, whatever the intention...I'm such a "friendly" lie! ("...bring us only this goat and we'll lead you to him, it shall open the gates, so we can sneak you in...") "Bring us a goat and we'll show you the way straight through the realm of the fallen and slain. Down, further down, where the gloom becomes sound, on to the cell, where your love might be found... Bring us only this goat and we'll lead you to him, it will open the gates, so we can sneak you in. Oh, it's cold and so dark here, and you must keep in mind, no-one can get you out, if you overstop time...!"

Sieh', mein Geliebter, hier hab' ich Gift

"Schatten, Schatten, komm' herbei, auf diesem Lager harrt ein Leib! Die Brust, die unstet steigt und sinkt, der Atem neues Leid nur bringt...!" Ein Seufzen, schwach, er zittert arg, sein truber Blick nimmt nichts mehr wahr, sein stummer Mund sagt: "La?' mich geh'n!", und jede Faser scheint zu fleh'n. In Schmerzen mein Geliebter liegt, als hatt' die Zeit den Tod besiegt... Als er erneut die Augen schlie?t, hoff' ich, da? er die Nacht begru?t. Seine Hand ist kalt, er spurt mich nicht..., doch plotzlich dreht er sien Gesicht direkt zu mir und sieht mich an, hebt leicht das Haupt und flustert dann: "La?' mich sterben, la?' mich geh'n! Ich kann bereits die Andern seh'n!" Dreimal spricht er's mit klarem Blick, dann sinkt ins Kissen er zuruck... Mein Mantel liegt schwer auf dem Tisch, aus seiner Tasche nehme ich den kleinen Flacon, blau-violett und setz' mich zu ihm an das Bett. "Hier hab' ich Gift, Geliebter mein, dies wird beenden Deine Pein!" Ich hebe sanft den Lopf ihm an, so schwach ist er, da? er kaum schlucken kann. "Kein Tropfen soll verschwendet sein, denn dies hier la?t den Tod herein...!" Er leert das Glas bis auf den Grund, ein Lacheln umspielt seinen Mund. Ich bette seinen Kopf zuruck, er sieht mich an mit klarem Blick... Die Morgensonne scheint warm in den Raum, ich schaue ins Licht, es ist wie im Traum, denn ich seh' am off' nen Fenster ihn steh'n mit gutigem Lacheln, so wunderschon! Ich lach'le zuruck, er neigt leicht das Haupt, winkt sanft mir zum Abschied und lost sich dann auf... Ich kusse den Leichnam, beruhr' seine Hand, seine Zuge sind friendlich, weich und entspannt. Mein Geliebter ist fort, nur sein Leib ist geblieben..., ihn werd' ich begraben. "RUHE IN FRIEDEN..."

Ich wollte hinaus in den Garten

Ich wollte hinaus in den Garten, zu begraben meines Liebsten Gebein', doch als ich kam zu der Tur seiner Kammer, da offnet' ich sie und trat hinein. Dort lagen noch all seine Sachen, ganz so, als war' er nicht fort. Sein Duft, zarter Hauch in den Kleidern, welch ein kostbarer Schrein dieser Ort.Ich ging hinab in die Halle, wo sein Lwichnam still aufgebahrt lag: gekleidet in weicheste Seide, gebettet auf samtenem Schwarz.Ich kusste sanft seine Lider und schmiegte mich an seinen Leib. So lagen wir eng beeinander, und an seiner Brust schlief ich ein. Die Sonne war langst schon versunken, als ich zu mir kam aus dunklem Schlaf. Mein Korper, ans Leben gebunden, doch mein Liebster, bald Staub nur im Grab. Doch noch war sein Glanz nicht vergangen, sein Leichnam so schon, Haut und Haar. So legte ich ab uns're Kleider und liebkoste ihn ein letztes Mal...Ich ging hinaus in den Garten, zu begraben meines Liebsten Gebein'. Ich lie? ihn hinab in die Erde und seitdem bin ich nun allein.

Gebet: an die gluckligen Eroberer

Ich ruf' Euch, Wurmer, denn diese Leich' halt Einzug nun ins Totenreich. Zu schwerer Erde, kalt und klamm, trau' ich Euch meinen Liebsten an. Sein Leib, entseelt nun, bald Gebein, soll fur Euch Fest und Wohnstatt sein. Von Stund' an mag er Euch gehor'n, und nichts soll seinen Frieden stor'n!

The Sleeper (Edgar Allan Poe)

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steals drowsily and musically Into the universal valley. The rosemary nods upon the grave; The lily lolls upon the the wave; Wrapping the fog about its breast, The ruin moulders into rest; Looking like Lethe, see! the lake A conscious slumber seems to take, And would not, for the world awake. All Beauty sleeps!-and lo! where lies Irene, with her Destinies! O, lady bright! can it be right This window open to the night? The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully - so fearfully Above the closed and friged lid 'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid, That, o'er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall! Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear? Why and what art thou dreaming here? Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas, A wonder to these garden trees! Strange is thy pallor! Strange thy dress, Strange, above all, thy length of tress, And this all solemn silentness! The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, Which is enduring, so be deep! Heaven have her in its sacred keep! This chamber changed for one more holy, This bed for one more melacholy, I pray to God that she may lie For ever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by! My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep As it is lasting, so be deep! Soft may the worms around her creep! Far in the forset, dim and old, For her may some fall vault unfold some vault that oft has flung its black And winged panels fluttering back, Of her grand family funerals Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, many an idle stone Some tomb from out whose sounding door She nier shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! It was the dead who groaned within.

Inschrift/Epitaph

Hier, unter diesem alten Stein, liegen eng beieinander die Gebein' zweier Wesen, die wie eines war'n. Denn als von beiden das Eine verstarb, folgte das Andere ihm ins Grab... nach nicht einmal ganz einem Jahr.

No-one is there

Now and then I'm scared, when i seem to forget how sounds become words or even sentances... No, i don't speak anymore and what could i say, since no-one is there and there is nothing to say... So, i prefer to lie in darkest silence alone... listening to the lack of light, or sound, or someone to talk to, for something to share... but there is no hope and no-one is there. No, no, no... not one living soul and there is nothing (left) to say, in darkness I lie all alone by myself, sleeping most of the time to endure the pain.I am not breathing a word, i haven't spoken for weeks and yet the mistress inside me is (secretly) straining her ears. But there is no-one, and it seems to me at times that with every passing hour another word is leaving my mind... I am the mistress of loneliness, my court is deserted but i do not care. The presence of people is ugly and cold and something i can neither watch nor bear. So, i prefer to lie in darkest silence alone, listening to the lack of light, or sound, or someone to talk to, for something to share... but there is no hope and no-one is there. No, I don't speak anymore and what should i say, since no-one is there and there is nothing to say? All is oppressive, alles ist schwer, there is no-one and NO-ONE IS THERE...

Va(r)nitas, vanitas... (...omnia vanitas)

Knochen verbrennen bei 760 C, und damit ist eigentlich auch schon alles gesagt. Komm', lab' uns spielen "Konig & Konigin", dreimal darfst Du raten, wer von beiden ich dann bin! Doch in Grunde ist dies alles einerlei, zu Staub werden wir zerfallen und sind dann... ach ...ohnehin gleich! Dennoch mu? ich bekennen, die Einsicht fallt zuweilen schwer, Dinge an denen wir hangen, geben wir nur hochst ungern her. Oh, alles ist verganglich und existiert nur kurze Zeit, wovor wir uns so furchten, ist meistens blobe Eitelkeit. Was and're von uns glauben, ist fluchtig, wie ein Furz im Wind. Lab' sie denken, was sie wollen, es gibt Dinge, die wirklich wichtig sind! Komm', schliebe Deine Augen und sag' geschwind: WAS KANNST DU SEH'N ? Schaust Du mit off'nem Herzen, werden selbst garst'ge Monster schon... ("Beauty comes from the inside and so does ugliness! Yet, make-up is my armour, Dear, and i must hide my face. One and one is sometimes three, sometimes nothing at all, all is mortal, all is vain... and mortal things myst fall!") ...Knochen verbrennen bei 760 C, und damit ist eigentlich auch schon alles gesagt!

Transfiguration

Nothing in this world can be as immaculate and pure as the love of us Cold Ones for the dead. Our love lives only in those fleeting moments of recollection... memories we're fearing to forget.Our love knows neither kiss nor touch, we are embracing dust, air or ourselves when visualizing what we've lost. Awoken by a sound or scent, some visions call sad phantoms..., floating, wrapped in fading colours... -our lament. And then there is the all-devouring dread: "some day i might not bring him back..., when my feeble mind can't help but lose the countours of his face". Lost forever, lone and sad, gone forever to the dead... so far beyond the barriers of the oposite space.Yet, alas, despite it all... walking throught these deserted halls... It's easy... still ...to love the dead... It's easierto love the dead.

If Loneliness was all

Imagine what it would be like if loneliness was all...! No fulfillment, nor hope inside, could I endure this sadest fate if loneliness was all...? (scene cut)"Will i ever find the one i've waited for a thousand years? But the answer to this question lies within the confines of your (hopes and) fears. "Heal me, feel me, reveal and seal me! Shed a light upon my lonely soul!" But there is no-one (no other being) on the outside to make you whole... (scene cut)"Twelve faces shape the unholy circle, one mask for any opportunity. This sphere must remain incomplete... (as) in its centre the thirteenth mask is me." If love was something i could feel, at least some kind of cheerfulness... but i feel nothing, drowned in pain, half-frozen in my emptiness. Beyond this veneer of friendliness lies my true face, that no-one knows. This mask's a lie, obvious and sad, my heart is empty and all is cold. the same stage: (on the staicase, some other night) Imagine, what it would be like, if love was really all...! Then I'd truly be alone without a resting place or a final home, if love was really all... "Confide a secret to me, and i'll keep it to myself! I'm like a temple built of sadness, trustworthy like a grave..."(scene cut)

Anima I

The Woman I am no mirror can see, My breast are still small and my voice is so deep. The Woman I am unable (she cannot) feel love, I wish to cut my genitals and feed them to the dogs. The woman I am prepared to receive the pain. The needles shall burn only the ugly remains. Suppression is impossible, I must live it out, My true self is female how could I ever doubt...

Shadowsphere II

Black wall eat up my life and suffocate, This is a sad day in the Shadosphere... Two suns are dancing cruelly in the dark, Forcefully swimming through-out this space...

Saltatio Crudelitatis

Tongue of silence, lick my lips, steal my thoughts, steal my pride. My soul lies offered as I'm waiting, intoxicate me when you step inside... Hold my hands, my hands are trembling, your charming beauty takes my breath, fragrant perfumes veil my senses, hold my hands sweet tormentress. Out of darkness we call came from, flight from darkness is in vain, I am the banquet, I am delicious. Into darkness we'll fall back again. Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen, an diesem Ort kann ich nicht sein. Strecke mich nieder, zerschlage mein Haupt, Meister des Mordes, schenke mir den Tod... Meister des Mordes, erhore mein Flehen, beende die Leiden, nimm den Schmerz von mir. Offne die Tore, es ist fur mich Zeit. Meister des Mordes, dieser Tanz ist Grausamkeit... Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen, gefangen im Fleische, erbarmlich und alt. Fuhre mich fort in die Dunkelheit, Vater meiner Seele, dieser Tanz iest Grausamkeit. Vater meiner Seele, rei? mich in den Tod... ...Es tut mir leid.

Freitod - Phantasien

Two half figures stand ashore the darkest lake embraced by cold veils of mist and icy breath blows the leaves away... And the old black trees spread their long dead arms. As the souls of the dead call across the water they both step down into the coldest depth...

Anima II

Tanz der Grausamkeit

Omen Sinistrum

Kiss the corpse, the blessed sigh, walk in the garden of the night. Hold the carcass, sweetest lie, bury the body you chose to deny. Shed a tear, suspended in fear... - every soul is starving here.

Dead Souls

Hidden behind merciful shadows, beyond the cruel daylight, living to hunt and kill, we are the... damned children of the night. Dragging our immune existence through thousands of centuries and from dusk to dawn we suffer from our immortality.Hosts contaminate our tombs and crosses burn our skin, you can kill us a thousand times, but we're the ones, who will always remain ... - In Pain ... In Pain: "I'm the resurrection-man, who steals his own corpse and abducts himself to the beloved catacombs and vaults".Death and decay, cadaverous smell, for us there's neither heaven, nor is there a hell, and only the stigmata could be able to betray the sombre existence of the former days.After the dead Lover's kiss you fall into a dream, but with your second birth you're a prince in our mournful realm. By day, when a million suns are killing with their shine, the cold, dark crypts are saving me ... and mine. Death and decay, cadaverous smell, for us there's neither heaven, nor is there a hell, and only the stigmata could be able to betray the sombre existence of the former days ...

Stake of my Soul

Would your bare your neck ... to the walking dead ... Secretly, at least, within the safety of your head? Tell me, isn't it nice - every once in a while - Being the centre of attention of a loving, Handsome ... Parasite, Answering your call, the invitation of the scar, For being wanted - accepted - for the way you feel you are ?!

Beautiful Thorn

Ivy kissed the shadows, As mo(u)rning lusts for dew, She with lips of sweetest pain, Lies in wait for you. With the dawn she went away, Before mist veiled the earth, Nothing remained - except for the wounds - The only gift of her."Oh, for themselves they should despair, When our graves lie in silence, but we're not there. When there are voices close to your ear, But no reflection is haunting the mirror." With the dawn we fade away, Before mist veils the earth, Nothing remains, except for the wounds ... - The only gift of him, me ... or her.

Baptisma

Shivering with ... awe ... and delight: "Here is my throat", he said, As he bowed his head ... in silence ... to him. Behold his white flesh ... shining in the velvet of darkness. Take him now, and he will be yours ... - Can't you see, how he longs to be yours ... forever ... and a day....silently the river flows ..."Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen, An diesem Ort kann ich nicht sein. Strecke mich nieder, zerschlage mein Haupt, Meister des Mordes, schenke mir den Tod!"There he stood, bare and willing, As the blood ... his blood ... was streaming Down his naked body ... this naked body. Gushing out of the wounds, enfeebled he was sinking to the floor. Gushing out of the wounds, enfeebled he was sinking to the floor. "Cold" , he thought, "so cold the stones, But I'll be colder soon!" Still not enough ... still not enough. "This is the moment, my beautiful, beloved one, The time has come to send your farewell to the sun, To cross the threshold and leave ... all these mortal dregs behind. You shall be flesh of my flesh ... and blood of my blood. Flesh of my flesh ... and blood of my blood. Let me take what you have to give, Let me take ... and you shall receive. Feel the beat of my dead heart, Feel the beat of my heart ... and drink, as I have done ... - Drink, my beautiful, beloved one!"A new flower in the ancient bouquet, Another rose in the garden of darkness, That will never see the day ... - That will never, never see the day."...Tranen sind Perlen, Juwelen der Sterbenden ..."

The Feast of Blood

Today they've found another one, Lifeless on the cold subway-floor. His face was turned to his back ... - The same way the other died before. Drain the mortals to their last convulsion and veil the ancient cause, Let off ... of them ... and see them tumble, Let off and enjoy their fall!The Feast of Blood ... - Sweet nourishment, provided with a sob!This mortal nectar, that warms from the inside, This very special sort of wine. So delicious, let it flow ... devour ... oh, so divine. Alas, this feast shall never end, Until in hell we all descent ...

Sopor Fratrem Mortis est

"... kiss the corpse, the blessed sigh, enter the garden of the night. Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Every soul is starving here ..."The silence of the graves is not silent at all: Millions of the dead are crying in their graves, But no-one can hear them ... no-one ever hears ... No-one can hear them ... Except for the dead themselves.We can't die, no we can't die, It doesn't even matter if we try. We fear/hate the living, we shun the light, Our beloved tombs keep us sheltered inside. Sleep ... sleep is the brother of death, So lie down beside this skeleton in the coldness of the grave, Let the embrace of his dead arms keep you all save and sound. Buried in slumber ... silently ... Forever beneath the ground.Stalk "The night", if that's your wish, With your foolish garlic-chain and crucifix, Yet, if you find our graves, we won't be there, There are thousands of places left for our despair.And every night it's the same again: "The feast of Blood is about to begin !" We are wretched ... pathetic ... the flickering souls, But staging our pain is all part of the whole. And when all lights are fading, leaving but a fleeting glow, Then, after far too many years, it's time for us to go."Kiss the corpse - the blessed sigh - walk in the garden of the night. Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Cause every soul is starving here. Hold the carcass, sweetest lie, bury the body you chose to deny, Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Every soul is starving here."

The dreadful Mirror

White as snow lie my lover's bones in the soft, velvet soil of the vault, And I, his bride, sleep by his side, To celebrate our sacred love. At times it seems that I'm existing only within some fading memory, But dreams are all sacred, dreams are all holy ... - And, by far, still the safest place for my poor soul to be.Do not speak of the terrible place that guided your war-horse and your living stake ! We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead, We are blessed with the corpses that coil 'round our necks. Please, don't speak of that terrible place, That once guided your war-horse and your living stake !We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead, Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks.I caught a glimpse of myself on the other sphere and for a fleeting moment I forgot the tears. Dreams are precious ... and - OH - so is sleep, This, my safest, yet ... by far ... the most fragile of all retreats.Do not speak of the terrible place that guided your war-horse and your living stake ! We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead. We are blessed with the corpses that coil 'round our necks. Please, don't speak of that terrible place that once guided your war-horse and your living stake ! We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead, Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks ...

Reprise

Hanging down from the ceiling ... the old pendulum now rests, Time stands still ... - like iron - ... in the house of the dead. Our fragile souls lie weeping, sealed in sleep and balls of lead, All flowers here are dust, but we can still recall their scent.In filth, decay and disrelish the leg-less man lay kneeling, Weeping petrified, out of his mind ... - half buried, yet still breathing. His lips are soft like powder and so cold ... colder than snow; Mingled with the dust he fell, all paralysed by flesh and bone."Forgive us, please, for we're long fallen", Shivering carcass shuns the light, Ancient bodies' fallen heaven, a dark star in a fallen sky. "Flow my tears !" , the angel said, He forced a smile than bowed his head, How much he wished that he could die ... - Tore his old wings off with a sigh.

Birth-Fiendish figuration

Exposed with hands as empty, as the opposite space, Crawlingly we move to where the final station lies. To whom is the debt that we are forced to pay, Real faces dare to appear only, when we turn away. Truth reveals itself ... - reveal yourself ! A face ordained to serve the hypocrites, We know the masks, the artificial smiles ... - Mind's black eyes should break the lies. Distorted pictures are all trans/parent to us, Phantasmagoria, such a useful weapon; Ineffectual against us ... - Enemies with the knowledge of truth. Truth makes me sick ... - what a wretched play.Paralysed by flesh and bone ... - Condemned to vegetate, Condemned to stay alone. Helplessly we are escaping, we're clinging to ... - Stranded at the shores ... oh, beloved infamous side. Our distress in perfection, trials and tribulations ... - Preferring our pain, we'll stay and die.

Penance & Pain

The living ... have a look at the living: Dancing blindly ... losing balance, Will you chose pain ... or will you prefer the penance; The penance. The living ... have a look at the living: Dancing blindly ... losing balance, Will you chose pain ... or will you prefer the penance; The penance. The living and the undead, The living and the undead. A ballet of the living and the living dead: Penance, penance & Pain; Penance & Pain. The living ... have a look at the living: Dancing blindly ... losing balance, Will you chose pain ... or will you prefer the penance; The Penance. Light and dark, two paths ahead, Death to rebirth ... - or life undead; Life undead. One for the living, One for the undead ... - The undead, the undead, the undead. Light and dark, two paths ahead, Death to rebirth ... - or life undead; Life undead. One for the living, for the living, Only for the living; One for the undead, for the undead. Life on one side, Undeath on the other side ... - the darkest side: "I don't belong to your side anymore. I'm one of the undead", This is what the pale boy said.

Holy water Moonlight

Undead ... and still suffering, Always suffering. Wooden stake, come, impale my heart ... - Driven through this ancient heart ! Holy water, heal my wounds ... - Everything has now changed sides; Walking through the garden of the darkest night.The tear of the devil shed a light upon my heart, But unfaithful, sneaking eyes betrayed my soul ... - Befouled the dark. Our night is sweet, never deceptive or of treachery ... - The cruel light in the wake of the dawn is my true enemy. I fear my own fall ... - The end of everything and all.Holy water, shed a light upon my life. Holy water, everything has now changed sides. Your silver rays brought me back to life, Gifted me, gave me new sight ... - Holy water moonlight.

Infant

Uber den Fluss

He woke up, as his flesh fell off ... slice by slice, Floating high up in the air, more than ten-thousand miles. He said, he was crucified underneath a baneful sky, Had nails through feet and hands, Yes, also nails in his eyes. In defiance of all living things he hang there ... upside down, His poor, vicious face almost touching the ground. He knows well where he's been, Don't let him in !!!He claimed twelve-thousand crucifixes transformed into distorted sombre trees, Blood ran down their scarred trunks, Gushed slowly dripping out of the leaves. The offering gathered in a chalice, all golden, Held by the dirty hands of a black-bearded man, His face sheer spitefulness. He knows well where he's been; So, don't let him, don't let him in ... Don't let him in !!!

Dark Delight

Hands folded in a prayer, A rosary embedded in-between ... - Tonight I'll join you in your sleep.(... sleep brings no joy to me ...)I'll bring you back to life this night, It's meant for the flesh at least ... - I'll join you in your sleep.(... sleep brings no joy to me ...)Come up, I hear your voice ... - this is not me, I'm not aware of what I'm doing. I'll shiver at the recollection, When I'll awake with the soil ... on my hands.I know, they will find you ... fallen asleep again, Between the mounds and crosses. Tomorrow night it will be just the same ... - It will be just the same.(... sleep brings no joy to me ...)

Birth - Fiendish Figuration

Exposed with hands as empty as the opposite space, crawling we move to where the final station lies, to whom is the debt that we are forced to pay...? Real forces dare to appear only when we turn away, truth reveals itself Reveal yourself! A face ordained to hypocrites, we know the masks, their artificial smiles, "Mind's black eyes should break the lies!" Distorted pictures are all transparent to us, phantasmagoria... such a useful weapon, ineffectual against us, enemies, with the knowledge of truth... ...truth makes me sick, what a wretched play!Paralyzed by flesh and bones, condemned to vegetate, condemned to stay aloneHelplessy we are escaping, we're dinging to... stranded ashore, "Oh, beloved infamous side!" Our distress in perfections, trials and tribulation, preferring our pain, we'll stay and die...

Tanz der Grausamkeit

Im Garten des Nichts

(a secret Light in the Garden of my Void)I close my eyes, and breathe the night. Within myself a glimpse, in bare of the tide. How blind I'd been. Oh, I just couldn't see. I've searched the outside, for the answer. It was "need", to be free, to be free.

Time stands still... (...but stops for no-one)

That little mountain raises (silently) while other dissolve into a plain time redefines itself (irrationally) and falls in sadness grain by grain..."Time heals all the wounds" The two-tongued echo seems to say but nothing, nothing changes still pain remains, won't pass away.I went weak, as I grew old and time itself has made me slow and as I close my hand in darkness a thousand seasons come and go...Mighty enought to cover all and also cruel enough to reveal but the wounds and scars I carry neither force nor kiss can heal...No, Time heals nothing, nothing, nothing spitefully turns away and laughts leaves you half-broken and defiance is only added another scar...Call it "blind" how I am writhing counting hours, centuries the pain it grows and glows in tides unable to vanish, unwilling to cease...No, Time heals nothing, nothing, nothing pushes 'till we're diping into different flesh time heals nothing, nothing, nothing just a polarity of inner flames...Time's finger claw, I'm losing hold there is no hope for me on earth Time either still or maybe rushing in any case it will turn out worse...Time is fleeting, Time stands still it stops for no-one, and we're trapped within thought I may dream of the Light I am falling back into the left-hand side...How I wish that I was dead and rest in final peace but even the Luxury of Death can't cure the wounds Time cannot heal...

The Encoded Cloister

(The MIRROR ... is the THEATRE ... where the AUTOPSY ... begins) Please, be so kind to leave this place, none of your kin(d) is wanted here; a dreadful tremor shakes these walls ...- your presence vibrates violently.Over many years we've built the utmost fragile atmosphere, we can't allow the uninvited visitor(s) to interfere. The balance here's most delicate, and our salvation, if you wish, yes, our existence as a whole is depending on this sacred place.A silence, powerful and true, a minimum of what we seek, pervading everything and all ...- it can be heard, can be perceived. This silence, you must understand, a quiet state of rest and calm, is like a temple in itself, keeps the secluded soul(s) from harm. Its gentle light is almost dark, a peaceful semblance of the tomb, a certain chill's predominant ...- as most things here have ceased to move.Our Lord is sleeping in his chambers, the centre of our sanctuary, he's not receiving anyone ...- he has not seen a soul in years. So long ago our Lord's retired from the affairs your worlds do show, we've never heard your name before ...- our Lord's not well, you have to go.Please, be so kind to leave this place, none of your kin(d) is wanted here; a dreadful tremor shakes these walls ...- your presence vibrates violently.Please ... - leave!

Backbone Practise

(unpleasant reminder in a subterranean pathology department)We are entering the operating theatre of the familiar morgue: the student nurses are making a lot of noise, their voices echo from the bare tiled walls ...- I improvise a fainting fit : " I cannot bare these voices anymore ... ! "The tiny spineless spider, who really is a dog, has hurt herself - or did she get hurt ? - something 'bout her back ...- oh, does she need a new one ? Torso-less she only does consist of legs ...- much like a crushed little cross, a tiny crucifix. So cautiously she's stalking now across the palm of my right hand, merely a thin branch in the wind, touching the wound ... where I had cut my finger.I hand her over to the nurses, one of them - directed by the teacher - carries out the operation, for which I don't have the knowledge. One day everyone here must fulfil this very task alone, as it's the only way to learn ... and in the end become a master ...- yes, this means responsibility, and it's connected directly to stress and fear.The little spider has her operation on a table that is decorated like a forest, all with thicket and fir trees ...- and right beside the flashing lights and displays of the instruments.So hear now of the very scene that happened right before this (here):An elephant stands on the plane roof of a tall cathedral ... very close to the edge. "Climb down his tail, as if it were a rope! Have faith and confidence, believe that he will hold you!" But the elephant is not anchored in the ground, yes, he might have the will to remain in position, perhaps doing everything within his power to hold me, not to slip and fall himself ...- but in my opinion this is hardly enough. Can this be a question of trust, at all ?!?Looking out of the window, while the underground moves down into the tunnel ... - a man, who has already passed the elephant- test, says: " Fear must be conquered, boy! Many of what comes up are merely old Fears of Death!"

Idleness & Consequence

The boy took a stroll along the shores of the well-constructed brook, carefully climbed a waterfall, built of semiprecious rock ...- and gazed at the crystal that he had picked up from the ground. Washing the boy's bare feet, the cold clear water lapped around, murmured silently, as it flew underneath the boy's white gown ...- so that he, somewhat leaking, became the semblance of a well.As he laid the crystal down again, the pale boy realised that his feet had meanwhile turned to marble: dark green, ochre & white ...- yes, the poor boy gradually petrified.With a furious hiss a black cat attacked his three-coloured, fair-haired rabbit of luck ...- and the startled, pale, rattled boy."Behold, my blood is like MILK, or MERCURY", the pale boy cried. "No, it's not red ... more like dancing serpents, of which one is BLACK, the other WHITE. Two separate, coiling streams that never mix, never unite, but as one they're flowing, flowing ... ever flowing side by side!"

Beyond the Wall of Sleep

Every now and then it seems to me that there is greatest danger lying hidden in the depths of sleep ... Saddest the wanderer ... who is travelling here for far too often ..., or just longer than his mortal mind would bare.From the other world he can never fully return after the passing of a certain period of time, as the forces of the other side are with him all the while, are surrounding his mind, as they are now with him all the time. Obscuring his mind, his spirit, they chain him to this place, or state: mind and body will become lethargic, listless and inert, and then, driven by his wounded soul, he will be longing for nothing more ... except the end itself ...- for darkness ... and for death.Every now and then it seems to me that there is greatest danger lying hidden in the depths of sleep ... Saddest the wanderer ... who is travelling here for far too often ..., or just longer ... than his mind would bare.

Imhotep

(Schwarzer Drache mischt einen Sturm)"... Armes, dunkles Wolkenkind, hast Dich erneut in Sturm gehullt, im fadenschein'gen Pechgewand Dich selbst in ew'ge Nacht verbannt. Die undurchdringlich' zweite Haut, hat die Grenze zur Welt erbaut ...- als Eierschale, hart wie Stein, la?t sie kein Licht noch Warme ein.Eiskalte Wande, falsches Haus, kein Leben schlupft aus Dir heraus, kein Ungeborenes reift heran, nur noch ein zorniger, alter Mann gramt sich im Innern ewiglich ...- selbst vor dem Tod furchtet er sich.""Armes, dunkles Wolkenkind, den schlimmsten Kurs Dein Geist stets nimmt. Dein Pfad des Grau'ns ist trugerisch, birgt nichts als Schmerz und Leid fur Dich; Szenarien Deine Angst ersinnt, die niemals wahr, nicht wirklich sind. So furchtbar tost der Sturm in Dir, dies bose, alte ungetier lockt aus der Finsternis hervor den garstig zischelnd Schattenchor, der, wie ein kalter, kranker Hauch, sich faulig hauft in Deinen Bauch, und dann als ekler Leichenwind Gute und Schonheit von Dir nimmt ...-"Oh, armes, dunkles Wolkenkind!"

Hearse-shaped Basins of darkest Matter

On the left side ... again ... black fish are being bred ...- cultivated in vast amount. Harboured by enormous tubs, all of them made of glass, they are resembling massive moving planes; one of these even has the shape of a gigantic hearse ...- could this be some sort of restaurant perhaps?Oh, stupid boy, won't you turn around? Don't you hear the sound of the tocsin ringing in the air?!Climbing up the slope of stairs taking two steps at once ...- the vats are rising as he gets higher. Growing steadily now on both sides of the path viciously filling up every space.Only a few meters away from him ... they are joining up above his head, like an archway they are building ... a passage; through its transparent walls he can see the black fish moving: like a tunnel, all organic and dark, a black mouth waiting, veiled in hungry architecture, quite perfectly disguised ...- yet, (t)his premature entry would be (entirely) unauthorised.Oh, stupid boy ..., turn around, this place is most unhealthy ground! Don't you hear the sound of the tocsin ... ringing in the air?!

Interlude - The Quiet Earth

Ach, hatt' ich heut' drei Wunsche frei, die Wahl fiel mir nicht schwer, drei Wunsche nur, das reichte aus, ich brauchte gar nicht mehr.Mein erster Wunsch, gesteh' ich gern, war' nur fur mich allein ...- ich wurd' vernichten meinen Leib, um nur mehr Geist zu sein. So reist' ich dann - gedankenschnell - ein einz'ges Mal noch um die Welt, um nachzuseh'n, ob es vielleicht doch etwas gibt, da? mich hier halt ...Den zweiten Wunsch, auch das ist leicht, send' ich dann in die Nacht; verseh'n mit einem Bittgesuch, um zu beschwor'n die Macht, die richtend dann ihr Urteil spricht, so wie ich's langst gefallt, wischt kurzerhand die Menschheit fort und erschafft die stille Welt.Mein dritter Wunsch, wie sollt's auch sein, beendet letztes Leid, denn erst mit meiner Ausloschung ist die Erde befreit ...Ach, hatt' ich heut' drei Wunsche frei, die Wahl fiel mir nicht schwer, drei Wunsche blo? reichten schon aus, ich brauchte gar nicht mehr.

We have a Dog to exercise

When the old ghost of suicide creeps slowly back into your mind, then everything is bleak and blurred ...- down here in the short-sighted world. Yet, this time I have to insist on the sharpness of the things I missed ...- this once so loyal friend ..., he's not that welcome anymore.White, fragile procelain-boy, some minor things shall be left unsaid, yes, you share the strongest desire for beauty, as like all the "enchanted" you are more than blessed with it.The body is a prison-cell ... that like a child needs to be washed and fed ...- these are just two of the things that I have a tendency to forget.The heavy smell of rotting flowers is chanting through the prison doors, we kiss the dying world goodbye ... and leave it in good hands at the morgue.Well, on the second day of excavation, tell me, what did you expect to find? Be careful when you scratch the surface, 'cause we all have a dog to exercise.We are not lovers, we are LIKERS ...- we are merely hands and shakes; these are just FOUR from the list of the numberless things of which we're still afraid.We are not familiar with the state of (y)our decay, because this is not our line, it is not really our trade. All we know is that our feet are cold and that our sticky hands are wet - and that we're here to bring you tidings straight from the CHOIR OF THE DEAD.Look at the boy ... oh, he really suffers, he's caught in fear and its destress; there's no point in looking at him for answers, because he is a stranger here himself.The body is a prison-cell that like a child needs to be washed and fed ...- these are just two of the things that I have a tendency to forget.

The Lion's Promise

After the boy had taken a walk with his dear - deceased - grandmother, his feet were somehow led to a small, ancient church, which was giving quite an imposing grandeur. Partially sunken in the morass of the marshland all foggy and chronically overcast ...- the ancient house was waiting.The haunted house lies waiting.Clockwise the stone flight is spiralling upwards, but soon the passage becomes too small to get on ...- even though the boy's now crawling. Anxiously he attempts to restrain, but his way back seems to be obstructed: Gelatinous hearts are lined-up along the walls, each of them inseminated - or defiled - by a black tadpole.A stone lion promises to be the boy's rescue ...- but only, if he eventually ... stops running away ... from him ...

Leeches & Deception

The old monk of a somewhat Thelemite, or "crow"-related order, dressed in a torn, old gown of jute, had been locked up in a tiny box inside a wall, this cubic room was painted in dark(est)-red and midnight-blue.When the door was opened again, he was screaming terribly, as towards the end of his self-imposed isolation he must have suffered from the most horrible visions and/or hallucinations, presumably, they had been caused by the previous days of his ritual fasting. The images he saw must have been atrocious indeed.The white-haired, bearded monk was in his forties I believe ...- that's 4 and 0 for the earthen sphere.Do not make stupid jokes about the old man in the grey gown of jute, because what might look like a cliche is necessity ... and truth!!!After he was released again a trans-/bisexual vampyre-demon was crawling after him out of the same box. Though this demon/creature should have been dissolved, instead ha had just split himself in two halves, dark-red, fat and swollen like a leech ...- it surely must have been feasting on the poor man while they were both locked inside the wall.A ritual: (I become a witness of an unexpected ritual, a demonstration.)On the right side of me: a magician hissingly exhales, directing his breath on a spongy, spherical thing; a plexus which, as a direct reaction to it, is covered by thin, electric flashes, or discharges of blue light.Unexpectedly, my hands are beginning to twitch and flash as well, and I have to realise that I am still dirty & soiled, possessed by certain things un(dis)solved, as it is they who now react to the formula of exorcism!In awe and terror I recognise that such rituals of power, invocations of archetypes must only be performed by the truly initiated, experienced magicians all alone. Not by some superficial silly loser/boy-girl, a mere artist of hot (test)-air ...Do not make stupid jokes about the old man in the grey gown of jute, because what might look like a cliche is necessity and truth!!! Do not make stupid jokes about the man in the crow-related cowl of jute, because by transforming himself he might be saving me and you. Do not make stupid jokes about the old man in the gown of jute, because what might look like a cliche is necessity ... and truth!!!

The Skeletal Garden

Will I become like the old man from next door?Obsessed with the fear of losing his mind, he soon couldn't take care of himself anymore. He had no friends or relatives to look after him, only once a week some male nurse dropped in.He was found in this bed, dehydrated ...- unconscious, as he was, they brought him to a different place."We have never heard of him since ..."He lived alone in his house for most of his life, and I wouldn't be surprised, if he had died the same day they put him in a room with people he'd never seen before.He had a wild garden behind his house ...- so beautiful and dark. Woodpeckers and squirrels lived there, and hedgehogs, mice and martens. Hazelnut-trees and wild strawberries grew, and cherries, apples and pears, and currents of red and black ...- all hidden in this private place.In the safety of the shadows the fragile fern slept, along the winding paths the wild-flowers wept, snowdrops nodded their little heads in spring, forget-me-nots, and all kind of things, of which I do not know the names ...And, of course, there was ivy everywhere.It happened the same week they took him away workers hacked down all the trees in the garden ...- hired by the envious people outside ... who had always been terrified by the beauty that enchanted this place, and the darkness it was breathing.Yet, none of them could keep the dead birds from singing ...

Consolatrix has left the Building

Strolling all alone ... across the ancient cemetery ...- tell me, isn'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 won'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: "The dead are furious with you! as you're wasting your precious time!"Now there are faces in the carpet, there are people living in the walls; I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the hours before dawn!"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 life'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, it'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: "sadness lies in wait in the darkest hours ... ... right before the dawn!"

Day of the Dead

Unexpected ... suddenly ... as if from nowhere they appear, the monks are wearing fire-coloured gowns, their faces, friendly but determined, are hidden behind lacquered masks, painted black & white, they're having the shape of over-dimensional skulls.Quickly and nimbly they are moving forward, hopping dextrously, throwing their legs like ageless jesters ... so high up into the air. Each of them is armed with a short , an even piece of wood, remarkably resembling ... ancient worn-out washing-boards. Polishes by the years of use, they brandish them like swords or sticks, ready to strike ritually ... - this is the DAY OF THE remaining DEAD.On this day we celebrate the expulsion, or rebuke, of the spirits which have unintendedly been dragged along. Some of these ghosts have been forgotten, some have simply been ignored, these remnants with a growing hunger ... must be exorcised, must be removed.This ritual always commences without warning, suddenly, therefore it cannot be assigned to a certain date or time. It rather tends to inevitably follow a chain of events, a special spiritual feature inherent in each and everyone of them.Out of the sphere of influence ... of the sphere of the days to be the monks are approaching, spinning on their own axis as they dance and sing and hitting every person present hard between the shoulder-blades as everyone here is dragging fidget, invisible ... "appendages".As if by change, not expressly invited, we've assembled here today vehemently we are being hit ... and driven through the western gates, out of the monastery in the direction of the setting sun a necessary purifying ceremony for the (fragile) days to come ...

An die Sterne

Ich sehe Dich, Stern, dort am Himmel, so kalt und so unendlich weit...- und doch hast Du Trost mir gegeben, warst mir immer treues Geleit. Deiner Schwester, der Mondin, entsagend, gleich meiner Hoffnung auf Licht, zieh' ich durch die kalten Welten, doch die Richtung, die weiss ich nicht...Oh, silbernes Licht meiner Sterne, Du Glanz in trostloser Nacht, geh' ich meinen Weg auch alleine, haltst Du uber mich doch stets Wacht...Ich habe mein Ziel langst verloren und glaube nicht mehr daran. Mein Platz in der Welt ward vergessen...- hab' ich meine pflicht schon getan ? Oh, Stern, konnt' ich Dich nur erreichen, Deine silbernen Strahlen beruhr'n; Du konntest mir Hoffnung neu geben, mir den Geist und die Sinne verfuhr'n...Oh, silbernes Licht meiner Sterne, Du Glanz in trostloser Nacht, geh' ich meinen Weg auch alleine, haltst Du uber mich doch stets Wacht...Oh, Stern dort am Himmel, so glaube mir, wenn mein Korper auch einmal vergeht, meine Seele wird Dich doch stets kennen, wenn sie die Verbindung besteht, Einen Tempel wird sie sich weben aus Strahlen, dem glanzenden Licht...- und dort werde ich auf Dich warten, denn vergessen kann ich Dich nicht...Oh, silbernes Licht meiner Sterne, Du Glanz in trostloser Nacht, geh' ich meinen Weg auch alleine, haltst Du uber mich doch stets Wacht...

Die Stimme im Sturm

Jenseits der Grenzen dieses Reiches zog eine Bardin weit durch das Land. Sie kam mit dem Wind und sie folgte dem Morgen, der Spielleute Freiheit ist fern aller Sorgen... und so fand sie das Schloss an der Klippe Rand und hatte die Zeichen nicht erkannt: das Dunkle des Himmels, des Sturmes Lied, das zu fliehen und niemals zur Ruckkehr ihr riet. Doch sie schritt durch die Pforten, zu seh'n und zu hor'n... wem mag dieses Schloss an der Klippe gehor'n ?Sie fand leere Gange und einsame Hallen, still und verlassen, dunkel und kalt. Ganz so, als hatte ein Fluch alles Leben verbannt, und schon spurte sie schaudernd des Grauens hand, als sie Schritte vernahm, wie in Ferne verhallt, und sah sie im Licht dort nicht eine Gestalt ? Und sie folgte dem Schatten hinauf in den Turm, hoch uber der Klippe, im tosenden Sturm... und verharrte plotzlich mitten im Schritt, als aus Schatten und Dunkel ein Mann vor sie tritt.Schrecken durchfuhr sie und angstliches Zaudern, doch das Licht seiner Augen zog sie in Bann, und mit dunklen Wogen, die ihn umgaben, schien er sich an ihrem Entsetzen zu laben... bevor er leise zu sprechen begann und bat, dass sie ihr traurigstes Lied fur ihn sang. Doch so sanft seine Stimme auch erst in ihr klang, war sie doch wie ein Schwert, das ihr Herz durchdrang, So ergriff sie die Laute, mit Schmerzen im Blick und fugte sich so in ihr dunkles Gesicht.Schon liess sie die Saiten fur ihn erklingen und begann ein Lied uber Tranen und Wut. Der Klang ihrer Stimme erfullte die Raume, und ihr silberner Sang malte glaserne Traume, erweckend, was im ewigen Schlaf sonst ruht; ja, selbst kalter Stein weinte Tranen aus Blut... und gleich wie von Farben aus Wort und aus Klang, wob ein Licht sie, das selbst tiefstes Dunkel durchdrang. Doch eines blieb weiterhin unberuhrt kalt: das Gesicht und der Blick jener dunklen Gestalt.So fragte sie schliesslich mit bebender Stimme: "Welch grausames Schicksal schliesst in Schatten Euch ein ? Wieviel Kalte muss Euer Herz nur durchdringen, und welch dunkles Geheimnis muss tief in Euch klingen, dass ihr weniger fuhlt, als selbst totes Gestein, denn kein Traum scheint mehr Hoffnung fur Euch zu sein ?" Doch sein Blick wurde Eis und sein Wort Dunkelheit: "Langst hab' ich mich von allen Gefuhlen befreit, denn wirkliche Macht kann nur jenem gehor'n, den nicht Liebe noch Angst oder Schmerzen beruhr'n!"Und er zog einen Dolch von dunklen Kristallen und stiess ihn der Bardin mitten ins Herz. "Gefuhle und Traume, sie konnen nichts geben und sie retten auch nicht Euer nichtiges Leben! So fuhlt nun hier Euren letzten Schmerz, der Leben mir gibt, denn ich habe kein Herz!" Und sterbende Blicke sie zu ihm hin, und weinte, denn mitleiderfullt war ihr Sinn... doch ihre Tranen wurden zu Glas und kalt, kaum dass sie beruhrten die dunkle Gestallt.Doch seit jenem Tage hoch uber der klippe, tragt dort der Wind ihr trauriges Lied, in den einstmals so stillen, verlassenen Raumen singt nun ihre Stimme von traurigen Traumen; Und jeder des Schlosses Nahe flieht, aus Angst, was wohl hinter den Mauern geschieht. Doch sie muss dort singen fur alle Zeit, denn ihr Geist wird erst von dem Fluch befreit, wenn durch ihre Lieder das Herz erwacht, dessen Hand ihr dort einst den Tod gebracht...

Schwarzer Spiegel

Weit fort von jedem bekannten Land, hinter den Grenzen, in Steine gebannt... dort ruht ein Geheimnis von dunkler Macht, welches jedem, der's sah, grosses ungluck gebracht.Dort, verschlossen in tiefstem Gestein, hinter der Brucke aus bleichem Gebein, uber dem See, der aus Tranen geweint, wo das sanfte Licht der Unendlichkeit scheint.Dort siehst Du ihn schweben, sanft wie eine Feder, und weiss es erst auch keiner, so spurt's alsbald ein jeder, ein Spiegel aus kaltem, schwarzen Gestein... greift in Deine Seele, greift in Dein Sein.Und solltest Du je dort Dein Spiegelbild sehen, wird augenblicklich Deine Seele verweh'n. Dein Geist kann die Leere in Dir nicht versteh'n, und so wird auch Dein Korper sehr bald schon vergeh'n.So wachst nun die Brucke aus bleichen Gebeinen, um dem, der nach Dir kommt, als Weg zu erscheinen... ihn weiter zu fuhr'n, in der Hoffnung auf Licht, bis auch er dort am Schwarzen Spiegel zerbricht.

Schattengesang

In kalter Nacht voll Silbermond, der Eule Schrei klang weit... das Madchen fand wohl keinen Schlaf, griff Mantel sich und Kleid. Ging fort, weit in die Dunkelheit, der Warnung unbedacht, dass: "...Geisterstimme heller Klang voll Unheil fullt die Nacht...".So kam sie an des Berges Fuss, im Feenmonden Licht, als ferner Stimme Lied erklang, dass klagend Herz zerbricht. Und sah durch Schatten, silberweiss, der Sangerin Gestalt: so zart, wie heller Morgengrau, doch Augen, still und kalt.Fern aller Zeit, der Seele Geleit, der Einsamkeit klang im stillen Gesang...Das Lied verklang im Nachtwinds Flug, die Sangerin schwieg still, nur eine Trane, stumm geweint, sprach, was sie singen will. Das Madchen war so tief beruhrt, so sprach sie: "bleib nicht stumm, denn Euer Lied erfullt mein Herz, weiss ich auch nicht warum!"Die Sangerin trat zu ihr hin, bang hoffend schien ihr Blick, griff schuchtern nach des Madchens Hand... nun gab es kein Zuruck. Sie sang ein Lied fur sie allein, die folgte still gebannt der Sangerin den Berg hinauf, zur hochsten Klippe Rand.Fern aller Zeit, der Seele Geleit, der Einsamkeit klang im stillen Gesang...Dort sang die Sangerin ihr Lied von dunkler Schicksalsnacht, die, wohl vor mehr als hundert Jahr'n, ihr tiefste Not gebracht: ein junger Mann schwor ihrem Herz in fruher Liebe Gluck... doch ihres Vaters blinder Hass verwehrte dies Geschick.Er schrie: "niemals im Leben sollt ihr Euch ganz gehor'n", so planten sie im fruhen Tod die Liebe zu beschwor'n. Doch war der Fluch des Vaters arg, erreichte sie selbst dort, er trennte ihrer beide Seelen... verbannte sie an diesen Ort.Fern aller Zeit, der Seele Geleit, der Einsamkeit Klang im stillen Gesang...Noch immer hielt die Sangerin das Madchen bei der Hand, als tranenblind sie ubertrat der hohen Klippe Rand. Doch horte sie ein Lied als schon in der Tiefe sie verschwand: "Hab' Dank, mein Kind, denn nur Dein Tod zerbrach des Fluches Band!"Fern aller Zeit, der Seele Geleit, der Einsamkeit Klang im stillen Gesang...

Der See des Vergessens

Weit fort in einem fremden Land und hinter eines Waldes Rand, wo mancher schon sein Ende fand... dort liegt Lazemare. Dunkel, unergrundlich tief, wo mancher in sein Schicksal lief, den das Wasser zu sich rief... Lazemare, der See. In Nebelschleiern, marchenhaft, doch voller unsichtbarer Kraft, des alten Volkes Erbenschaft... das ist Lazemare.Das alte Volk hat ihn gemacht, den Fluch, in einer dunklen Nacht. Ein See, so unbegreiflich schon, wie noch niemand ihn zuvor geseh'n. Doch fuhrt das Schicksal Dich zu ihm, wird man Dich nie mehr wiederseh'n... wie alle anderen schon vor Dir wirst Du verschwinden ohne Spur.So geschah es, dass ein Lord, weit von den eig'nen Hallen fort, sich verirrte an diesem Ort... ihn rief Lazemare. Noch ritt er durch des Waldes Grun, als er konnt' eine Stimme hor'n, und konnte ihr nicht widersteh'n... es war Lazemare. Die Stimme war so grausam schon, dass er wollt' ihren Ursprung seh'n, und so begann, ihr nachzugeh'n... hin zu Lazemare.Der Abend senke sich auf's Land, als er zu jener Lichtung fand, wo das Gesuchte sich befand... am See Lazemare. Am Seeufer stand eine Frau, so zart und schon wie Morgentau, in einem kleid, von Weiss und Blau... schon wie Lazemare. Ihr singsang schwebte uberm See, so naherte er sich der Fee, die hob die Hand, so weiss wie Schnee... hier bei Lazemare.So verfiel er ihrem Charme und senkte sich in ihren Arm, zu fuhlen ihre Lippen warm... am See Lazemare. Doch kaum ruhrt' seine Hand sie an, senkt' sich auf ihn der dunkle Bann, dem keiner mehr entkommen kann... vom See Lazemare. Und so vergass er, wer er war, selbst welche Frau ihn einst gebar, auch wo er hergekommen war... nur durch Lazemare.Und als der Mond am Himmel stand, man von dem Herren nichts mehr fand, und auch die weisse Frau verschwand... im See Lazemare. Doch da, wo er am Abend stand, ganz nahe an des Ufers Rand, man eine weisse Rose fand... am See Lazemare. So mancher hier sein Ende fand, der See hat sie alle gebannt, die Namen sind nicht mehr bekannt... das ist Lazemare.

Sternblumennacht

Es war Mitternacht im Feenwald, das Licht des mondes... bleich und kalt. Rauschend... der Wind... in uralten Baumen, und Nebellicht, voll von verlorenen Traumen. Da sah ich sie bluhen am Wegesrand: Sternblumen... -hell, wie ein leuchtendes Band. Da packte mich Grauen mit eiskalter Hand, wusste doch langst jedes Kind im Land:Wenn im Feenwald nachts die Sternblumen bluh'n, wende Dich ab und versuch zu flieh'n, denn die Feen dort, sie haben kein Herz... ihre Spiele bereiten nur Trauer und schmerz.Schon trieb Angst und Entsetzen mich fort, hinaus aus dem Wald, an sicheren Ort. Da blickte ich in der Ferne ein Licht... unwirklich kalt, doch es schreckte mich nicht. Ich ging darauf zu und nahm nicht mehr wahr, dass der Wald voll von Feengelachter war... ein seltsames Sehnen schlich in meinen Sinn, liess die Angst mich vergessen und zog mich dorthin.Die Luft um mich her war klirrend kalt, das Licht, es fuhrte mich tief in den Wald. Meinen Weg hatte ich langst aus den Augen verlor'n, ein seltsamer Schmerz ward in mir gebor'n... fast als konnt' ich erahnen des Schicksals Spiel, das die Menschen da lenkt... ganz nach eigenem Ziel. Da offnete sich plotzlich vor mir der Wald: eine Lichtung im Mondlicht gewann vor mir Gestalt.Ich trat auf die Lichtung und konnte sie sehen: eine Figur aus Stein dort im Mondlicht stehen. Ein Brennen durchfuhr meine Seele mit Schmerz, das Gesicht des Wesens beruhrte mein Herz, denn all mein Sehnen, mein Suchen und sein, fand ich dort, in diesen Augen aus Stein. Voll Verzweiflung ergriff ich die eiskalte Hand, in der sich doch kein Funke Leben befand...Plotzlich liess ein Gerausch den Stein erbeben, und die starren Augen erwachten zum Leben. Ja, sie blickten mich an, doch wie konnte das sein... die Hand, die ich hiel, war nicht mehr aus Stein! Wo sich vorher ein lebloses Wesen nicht ruhrte, war nunmehr ein Mensch, dessen Warme ich spurte! Und in seinem Blick lag dasselbe Erkennen, das flammend mein Innerstes schien zu verbrennen.Fur einen Moment schien die Welt zu verschwinden, wir spurten sich unsere Seelen verbinden: der Einen des Anderen Sehnen gestillt, und ohne ein Wort von gleichem erfullt. Doch nur kurz war das Licht, das uns gewahrt, als sein Blich sich von drohenden Ungluck beschwert: "Verzeih' mir, Geliebte, doch kann es nicht sein, denn mein Schicksal will, dass ich bleibe allein!""Vor langer Zeit kam ich her bei Nacht, sah die Sternblumen bluh'n, doch ich habe gelacht, uber dass, was im Land man daruber erzahlt und mein dunkles Schicksal so selber, Denn die Feen verwandelten mich in Stein, und nicht Schwert noch Zauber kann mich befrei'n... doch ist mir gewahrt... in tausend Jahr'n... eine einzige Nacht als Mensch zu erfahr'n...""...und wenn dann der Sonne erstes Licht sich im Tau des Fruhen Morgens bricht, werd' ich erstarren, leblos und kalt, als Steinfigur, hier im Feenwald..." In dem Moment, fuhlte ich, brach mein Herz... verbunden durch Liebe, zerrissen durch Schmerz. Und die wenigen Stunden, die uns noch blieben, blieb weinend in seinen Armen ich liegen...Der Tag war schon hell, als ich zu mir kam und noch immer lag ich in seinem Arm. Doch war er nun wieder leblos und kalt... und ich machte mich auf meinen Weg aus dem Wald. Den Blick gesenkt, sah nicht einmal zuruck, denn tief in mir, spurte ich, fehlte ein Stuck. Mein Herz, so kalt wie der leblose Stein, fuhrt mein Weg mich fort... von nun an allein.

Lied der Todesfee

Dunkel die Wolken und grausam der Wind, seit so vielen Zeiten durchschreit' ich die Weiten, denn ich bin der Einsamkeit Kind.Ziehen die Raben den Toten auch nach, so werd' ich doch suchen, die Sonne verfluchen... mein Grab, liebe Seel', es liegt brach.Frostelnde Hande, eiskalt und wachsbleich, die Finger wie Krallen, wie Zittern und Fallen... ein Echo ins Untotenreich.Mein Liebster, sag', wo bist Du hin ? Mein Herz, es verweigert mir Tag fur Tag den gnadig erlosenden, letzten Schlag.Oh, Wanderer, antworte nur dieser Frag': Sag', wo ist er hin ? Sag', wo liegt der Sinn... in der grausamen Burde die ich hier trag' ?