On this fall mourning,
leaves are creeping and dreary.
I scowl at this landscape
desperately, where a thousand
faces is hidden, but for Wise Men.
Would this infernal and fantastic
noise charge at the edge?
Or do my shameful thoughts
smile upon you?

I can feel, I can touch, I can hear,
I can taste and I can see...
My senses are trustworthy.

Oh Thee, blind friend and enemy,
may this veil vanish in the haze
sad, breathe, deliverance looks like death!
Should this clownish and deadly role
remain sunk in the depth of our soul?
Or maybe my bitter feelings
are leading to torture...

I can feel...

I am tired of all those false illusions,
freezing step by step... I am sick of all
those arficial backgrounds, unsincere
and speechless, filled with venom.

I can feel...

May God drag them away rather
than believe in those chains.