When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
when to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past
and look upon myself and curse my fate.
For that same groan doth put this in my mind
My grief lies onward and my joy be behind.
When I have seen such interchange of state,
my state itself confounded to decay.
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate.
Past cure I am now reason is past care
frantic mad with evermore unrest,
tired with all these, for restful death I cry.
No longer mourn for me when I'm dead
that I in your sweet thoughts want to be forget.

Still so still
the look beyond the wall.
distant so distant
outside I'm dead.
Inside the storm rages
from without I'm as frozen
with a black smile in the face
disentangle circle of life.
Find the way to paradise
make sense of universe
and differes in all the values.
Which way are we passing?
Our own poor bodies drag along
with all our might.
Will we find someday
life of our dreams and loveliness...?

It's outside
out of our word-reach.
It refuses steadfasty
to be described.
It runs away from us
and lead us in.
And there are words
in my pittying heart
to express it.
It's real, it's a big dream,
a joyous ecstacy of words
and ideas and flesh,
an etheral flower unfelding
and folding back.
It has no beginning and no end
and at present it is infinitive.
Stare deep into the world
before you as if it were a void.
It was awakened to show the way,
chosen to die
in the degradation of life
becouse I am mortal
Golden Eternity.

It's snowing through the night.
I hearing the voices of a distant shores.
I'm looking for words
like for precious jewels
and working them into a fabric of my mind,
Under the hard shell of everyday vital nonsense.
I found pride and humility breathing.
I'm walking through darkness of an empty street.
A quiet song wants to be born.
I'm on the heaven's door.
Crowds of shadows wreck me inside,
wreck all I long to touch...
Hope... Love... Freedom... Death.
My feet are freezing
and it's snowing through the night.

When I die...
What is gonna happen with me when I fall?
What feeling? Can I feel anything at all?
When I die...
You know'st 'tis common all that live must die
passing through nature to eternity.
There must be a place for my desolate soul
out of body that wasted away and suffered from sorrow.
When I die...
Forever you will wipe away every tear from my eyes
and there'll be no more death nor sorrow nor crying.
Forever you are with me to the end of the age
and there'll be no more pain for the former things
have passed away.
It turns my eyes into my very soul
and there I see the things I always wanted to know.
When I die...

Into the sea I want! Into the sea!
I want to merge with the sea,
with this stormy azure space!
Into the sea I want! Into the sea!
And ships float.
They flow to shoreless horizons.
Their white sails blow with sorrow.
Let my life be severed
like a suddenly dissappearing sail.
Should the death come,
let her come.
Let me shine like the flesh of light
above the stormy space!
Let me merge as a sail
with the blue horizons!
Into the sea I want! Into the sea!

As though you are fallen in
the avalanche of snow
and pour on thoughts full of sceptism.
The black rose on your breast
makes you stupefy.
Deep below in the abyssm
away from human sweetnes.
The black rose on your breast
makes you poison your soul.
Your dying passion's gleaming
when the expired flare of your heart
is flashing by in agony.
The stream of woven visions
Dissolve in a spacious ocean.
The black rose on your breast
makes you transform into twilight.

It's drizzling.
The time has turned
into a furtive, soft,
deadly whisper.
It's drizzling.
White bear feet of death
are running across black,
damp ground.
It's drizzling
on a fairy-tale marketplace.
There's my shadow
hanging on a tree
near a stall selling belief.
It's drizzling
and my naked shadow
drenched with rain
is swinging on a bare branch.
The night is long and blind.
It's drizzling.
The market place is quiet
and the belief-stall is dark.
I wish I didn't have to speak
I wish I didn't have to listen.
Feeling is a curse of perception.
The fairy-tale marketplace
has covered its face
with both hands.
It's drizzling...