...and kissed the fairytale-land with pride
under the trees of lust
the leaves pure shadows on me
which shelter me from the darkness
which I was
I hold the dreams, within my arms
thrash the earth, within my tears
and heal my wounds in meadows of light
forgotten in the drowning land
now I leave my wishes
but love conquers all...
and every angel needs a tear to laugh
calling the fall
trust me, I am your lunacy
embolded, enthroned so it's a king for a while
but gloominess it sends so gentle
the gestures of the gist
ingrowing taste of dreams
infatuate my gift, now it becomes light
inexact but clear

Cras te victurum, cras dices (Postume) semper.
Dic mihi, cras istud (Postume) quando venit?
Quam longe cras istud, ubi est? Aut unde petendum?
Numquid apud Parthos (Armeniosque) latet?
Iam cras istud habet Priami vel Nestoris annos.
Cras istud quanti, dic mihi, possit emi?
Cras vives? Hodie iam vivere (Postume) serum est:
ille sapit, quisquis, (Postume), vixit heri.

Zeersetz in blassem litch, das werme gab
schlief der mensch im lilienmeer
scheinbar ewig wartend, aber werdend
betrachtet von den auden derer die ihn liebten

...and there is no sun
not then and never again
gloss nativity
desirable perfume of light
flavourless silence
the beauty of the gist
...but what is the gist
nothing or everything
embeded in lies about the real sense of life
the poise between the beginning and the end
...but this is the last dance
escape from this thorn undying
enrich me please in my truth
the slumber in enchantment
deify the breath, my only passion
...but there is no sun
no gesture no gist
only me, only freedom, only life

Still drunken of spring's shining meadows and the myriads of flowers,
we shut our eyes to the beauty and fell asleep
...and oblivion erased our memories of fall and blinded our eyes.
Overwhelming were the days, as autumn embraced
the land of zephyr kissed the sky with passion...
But more seldom we remembered the perfume
of a long withered spring and summer's caress
faded like a candle in the wind, leaving a legacy of gold...
...and still we slumbered - dreamless and forlorn...
But for the sleepless who perceive, a blossom's tear
will be a monument of those long faded summers
and bears the seed of a new spring
...and those will feel no mourning as fall
grands them a farewell kiss in the orchid-fileds
because their gardens will gleam everlasting...

...and than she became older and left her friend in admiration
studded with bitter tears sickening falls the colour
taste for taste drowning in the nectar of clouds
which pass the light blind and bleeding
as the summer ever walks through winter's woods
...those tales...
stay far from me I lie to myself... and still I wish
I woke up again in the shining of help freedom and immortality
I opened my hands and call for me... but any beauty has its thorns
in the empty pictures of your life surrounded by radiance.
in the dust of every little hope no one can see
what happens in the end and you didn't want to see dry tears...