Smooth radicals,
ambitious lovers, do I belong to others? Is my darkness also yours? The part of
me is still on mountain, the silver river in the alpes, where I washed away the dirty
years and tears. And after I faced the Black Madonna. I'm still there and I’ll be going.
As soon as love exists, the power follows. And trees obey in the eternity of
presence of life and truth and warmth. My knife creates the form. The worms
will never eat my flesh. The fire will protect the body. Not the cremation, in
no way, oh God, He, who Knows the future – the bells will ring, and I’ll
survive.
When everybody dies.
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