独乐乐——Sopor Aeternus

Dead Lovers' Sarabande - Face One 1999
Across The Bridge From far beyond the veil of sleep some ancient voice does seem to whisper my forgotten name weakly, yet solemnly. So remotely that one night think it had been but a dream, echo of some illusive call of fleeting memory. Yes, to believe such vain idea no problem it would be, if there was not this inscrutable unrest within me ... As if out of the deepest sea some creature seeks to rise, to wish its long denied existence back into my life. My secret name is whispered by a half-forgotten sigh and out of nothing, across my face, which is all petrified, Hot tears are running without end. A deeply troubling pain pulls me together inwardly, to be no more the same... From far beyond the veil of sleep some tune, ne'er before heard, is trav'lling on a fragile breath, to shake my frozen world.	On Satur(n)days We Used To Sleep On Satur(n)days we used to sleep all motionless and still ...-While shrouded in an oppressive gloom we're handed over to the dream. A sleep so dark, this "Moon by Day", of powers strange and weird, through mystic veils her silver rays are glowing carefully. Wov en of dewdrops and magical light, this gown that we' re wearing here is but a cloth of mist and we used to call it "Breath of the Other Sphere"... We are floating, flying, incredibly fast, the world of the thought gives birth to this life. Free to remember, to discover and feel as were closely together in our parallel flight. While beyond the gates our bodies lie next to each other in fragile rest, two chests are lifted up and down, moved only by some mortal breath. Yes, our bodies are sleeping so closely together, but it's only in our minds that we touch (at last). In the realm of the spirit(s) our souls become one in the happy knowledge that we are completing halfs. No bodies and no harriers ...- (all) far more intimate and strange. Our understanding is clearer, incomparably real, although there is no sound that dares to escape ... His eyes are mirrors, gates to his soul, one true look and I recognize that it's him, my husband, the one that I love. See me! Read me! Step inside !!! No barriers and no masquerade, come, be received beyond distress! So intensively and so deep as our fingers unite, our hands caress. Two wanderers are lovingly dwelling this land, (as) we fly side by side over mountains and glens. In the twilight lit of the sillier moon . ..- \- set free from the flesh, released from this tomb! On Satur(n)days we used to sleep, the other side exploring, alive in our dreams ... Free from the pain, home where we belong and guarded by the shadows of the enchanted realm. Below a violet sky, both dark and profound, the horizon is glitt'ring, still there is no sound. We fly through the night crossing frontiers and lakes, mountains and valleys ... world without end. "This is where we truly belong, take both my hands, look into my soul !" I feel the strength of his embrace as we're closely together in this secret place ... "Hush, hush, my Dear, can yon hear the rustling in the Undergrowth? See through the branches, there in the glade ...", ghostly creatures as they dance and sing. Their transparent bodies, half man and half beast, their voices so sweet like a soft breath of wind. On Satur(n)days we used to sleep, and my pain was eased by his love...	Hades "Pluton" I dreamt that I was lying on the bottom of the dark and never-ending sea, on a bed that my dead lover was preparing with his own skeleton for me ... ("...bring us a goat and we'll show you the way straight through the realm of the fallen and slain ...") I sensed the wretched spectres of the drowned staring across from some distant shore, and in my sadness I drew closer, to condole and somewhat to implore ... I am like the doubtful kiss of a corpse or maybe the kiss of an ancient stone. Yes, it's like kissing some marble statue that has neither warmth nor life of its own.... ("...down, further down, where the gloom becomes sound, on the cell where your love might be found ...") COVER THE MIRRORS, FRAGILE HAS DIED, LEAVING BUT A STARLESS RUIN BEHIND! SHATTER THE MIRRORS, SO THAT HE CAN NEVER BE CALLED BACK FROM THE BLESSED SILENCE OF HIS SCARED VAULT ... No, no, no...- put an end to the show! I am going back to the land where the bone-flowers grow, to "the wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, out of Space - out of Time" ... See the shape, but can't see through, no-one can ever hate me as well as I do. Know when to throw a laugh, know how to force a smile, whatever the intention ...- I'm such a "friendly" lie! ("...bring us only this goat and we'll lead you to him, it shall open the gates, so we can sneak you in...") "Bring us a goat and we'll show you the way straight through the realm of the fallen and slain. Down, further down, where the gloom becomes sound, on to the cell, where your love might be found ... Bring us only this goat and we'll lead you to him, it will open the gates, so we can sneak you in. Oh, it's cold and so dark here, and you must keep in mind, no-one can get you out, if you overstep time...!"
Sieh', Mein Geliebter, Hier Hab' Ich Gift "Schatten, Schatten komm' herbei, auf diesem Lager harrt ein Leib! Die Brust, die unstet Steigt und sinkt, der Atem neues Leid nur bringt...!" Ein Seufzen, schwach, er zittert arg, sein tr黚er Blick nimmt nichts mehr wahr, sein Stummer Mund Sagt: "La? mich geh'n!", und jede Faser scheint zu flehen. In Schmerzen mein Geliebter liegt, als h鋞t' die Zeit den Tod besiegt... Als er erneut die Augen schlie遲, hoff' ich, da?er die Nacht begrt. Seine Hand ist kalt, er sp黵t mich nicht ..., doch pl鰐zlich dreht er sein Gesicht direkt zu mir und sieht mich an, hebt leicht das Haupt und fl黶tert dann: "La? mich Sterben, la遞' mich geh'n! Ich kann bereits die Andern seh'n!" Dreimal Spricht er's mit klarem Blick, dann sinkt ins Kissen er zur點k ... Mein Mantel liegt schwer auf dem Tisch, aus seiner Tasche nehme ich den kleinen Flac髇, blau-violett und setz' mich zu ihm an das Bett. "Hier hab' ich Gift, Geliebter mein, dies wird beenden Leine Pein!" Ich hebe sanft den Kopf ihm am, so Schwach ist er, da?er kaum schlucken kann. "Kein Tropfen soll verschwendet sein, denn dies hier l溥t den Tod herein...!" Er leert das Glas bis auf den Grund, ein L鋍heln umspielt seinen Mund. Ich bette seinen Kopf zur點k, er sieht mich an mit klarem Blick... Die Morgensonne scheint warm in den Raum, ich schaue ins Licht, es ist wie im Traum, denn ich seh' am off'nen Fenster ihn steh'n mit g黷igem L鋍heln, so wundersch鰊! Ich lchle zur點k, er neigt leicht das Haupt, winkt sanft mir zum Abschied und l鰏t sich dann auf... Ich k黶se den Leichnam, ber黨r' seine Hand, seine Z黦e sind friedlich, weich und entspannt. Mein Geliebter ist fort, nur sein Leib ist geblieben ..., ihn werd' ich begraben. "RUHE IN FRIEDEN ..."	Ich Wollte Hianus In Den Garten Ich wollte hinaus in den Garten, zu begraben meines Liebsten Gebein', doch als ich kam zu der T黵 seiner Kammer, da 鰂fnet' ich sie und trat hinein. Dort lagen noch all seine Sachen, ganz so, als w鋜' er nicht fort. Sein Duft, zarter Hauch in den Kleidern, welch ein kostbarer Schrein dieser Ort. Ich ging, hinab in die Halle, wo sein Leichnam still aufgebahrt lag: gekleidet in weichster Seide, gebettet auf samtenem Schwarz. Ich kte sanft seine Lider und schmiegte mich an seinen Leib. So lagen wir eng beeinander, und an seiner Brust schlief ich ein. Die Sonne war l鋘gst schon versunken, als ich zu mir kam aus dunklem Schlaf. Mein K鰎per, ans Leben gebunden, doch mein Liebster, bald Staub nur im Grab. Doch noch war sein Glanz nicht vergangen, sein Leichnam so sch鰊, Haut und Haar. So legte ich ab uns' re Kleider und liebkoste ihn ein letztes Mal ... Ich ging hinaus in den Garten, zu begraben meines Liebsten Gebein'. Ich lie?ihn hinab in die Erde und seitdem bin ich nun allein. 　 Gebt: An Die Gl靋klichen Eroberer Ich ruf' Euch, W黵mer, denn diese Leich' h鋖t Einzug nun ins Totenreich. Zu schwerer Erden, kalt und klamm, trau' ich Euch meinen Liebsten an. Sein Leib, entseelt nun, bald Gebein, soll f黵 Euch Fest und Wohnstatt sein. Von Stund' an mag er Euch geh鰎'n, und nichts soll Seinen Frieden st鰎'n!	Lament / Totenklage Hier, unter diesem alten Stein, liegen eng beieinander die Gebein' zweier Wesen, die wie eines war'n. Denn als von beiden das Eine verstarb, folgte das Andere ihm ins Grab ...- nach nicht einmal ganz einem Jahr. 　 The Sleeper At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim, And, softly dripping, drop by drop, Upon the quiet mountain top, Steals drowsily and musically Into the universal valley. The rosemary nods upon the grave; The lily lolls upon the wave; Wrapping the fog about its breast, The ruin molders into rest; Looking like Lethe, see! the lake A conscious slumber seems to take, And would not, for the world, awake. All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies Irene, with her Destinies! O, lady bright! can it be right- This window open to the night? The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop- The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully- so fearfully- Above the closed and fringed lid 'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid, That, o'er the floor and down the wall, Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall! Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear? Why and what art thou dreaming here? Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas, A wonder to these garden trees! Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress, Strange, above all, thy length of tress, And this all solemn silentness! The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, Which is enduring, so be deep! Heaven have her in its sacred keep! This chamber changed for one more holy, This bed for one more melancholy, I pray to God that she may lie For ever with unopened eye, While the pale sheeted ghosts go by! My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep As it is lasting, so be deep! Soft may the worms about her creep! Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold- Some vault that oft has flung its black And winged panels fluttering back, Triumphant, o'er the crested palls, Of her grand family funerals- Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, many an idle stone- Some tomb from out whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! It was the dead who groaned within.