Durch die hehre Finsternis
Des zukünftig Vergangenen
Sehnt das Raunen sich nach Licht
Nach einem Weg heraus
Zwischen zweierlei Welten
Verstummt ist die gleichgültig' Andacht
Und es ward mir,
Als würd' ich ein Unterkleid erblicken
Welches aufgeknüpft an einen Baum
Den Niederen eine Stätte der Zuflucht ist
Heraufbeschworen durch die Kraft
Einer erlöschenden, zweiten Sonne
Werden drei Finger meiner linken Hand
Erschlafften Samen in die Ungewißheit
Blutgetränkten Schlammes entlassen
Gestern meinte ich es noch genauso
Wie es morgen klingt
Es war die Berührung mit dem Nichts
Welche mir den dritten Finger tätowierte
Aber als der Lurch sich mir eröffnete
Ward ich ein anderer
Und schnitt mir den ganzen Arm ab
Ich fange dich mit meniem Todesbringer
Und du denkt noch es wäre der Wahnsinn
Doch es ist versprochen:
Ich werde mich weiter töten
Oh Verheißung - Du Krone des Todeskultes!
Wenn schwarze Regentropfen nur dem einen Ziel
Dienen,
In nächtlicher Unbedeutsamkeit zu verbrennen
Und der an sein eigenes Kreuz genagelte Mensch
Den Wunsch verspürt
Dich Tod einem nie dagewesenen Leben
Vorzuziehen
Dann ist der entweihte Zeitpunkt gekommen
In Deine erlösenden Augen zu blicken
Und den eigenen Untergang mit offenen Armen
Willkommen zu heißen.
[English translation: Promise - Thou Crown Of The Death Cult]
Through the exalted darkness
Of the future past
The murmuring longs for light
For a way out
Between dual worlds
Silenced is the indifferent attention
And it seems to me
As if I would see an undergarment
That, tied up in a tree,
Is a sanctuary for the humble ones
Conjured up by the power
Of a fading second sun
Three fingers of my left hand are
Set free weakened seed in the uncertainty
Of bloodsoaked mire
Yesterday I meant it just like
It sounds tomorrow
It was contact with the nothingness
That tatooed my third finger
But when the amfibian opened to me
I seemed to be someone else
And cut off my entire arm
I catch you with my bringer of death
And you still think it was insanity
Yet it is promised:
I will kill myself furthermore
Oh Promise - Thou Crown Of The Death Cult
When black raindrops serve only the one goal
To burn in nocturnal insignificance
And he who is nailed to his own cross
Feels the wish
To prefer You Death over a life that never
Existed
Then the distant point in time has arrived
To gaze into your redeeming eyes
And to welcome one's own downfall
With open arms
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