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1. |
Boreas
08:32
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of beauty, I could sing a thousand songs…
of beauty, I could write a thousand books…
and of the tears
as time slowly
erodes it,
eats its
face away
This story goes
just like the one
about our
grip on
this short life
The direction
goes in one sense
of utterly
slow decay
Ex nihilo
nihil fit,
so it was, it will be and will stay
We are wind swept
tiny wisps
in the dark armadas of the gray
Fading embers
only that
in the twilight of a dying day
Fading embers...
…boreas
what purity could there in emotion be
that it only seeks to flame the ember
and thus chars our little brittle rest
what relief could lay in the closing of the day
in that blackened body, with burnt eyes and heart
where in silence all which once was, once again, does drift apart...
of beauty, I could sing a thousand songs…
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2. |
Die Verwandlung
17:23
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1.
Als ich eines Morgens
Aus unruhigen Träumen
2.
Erwachte, erwachte…
3.
Fand ich mich in meinem Bett
Zu einem ungeheueren
4.
Ungeziefer verwandelt
5.
Auf meinem panzerartig
Harten Rücken lag ich
6.
Wenn ich den Kopf ein wenig hob
7.
Sah ich meinen gewölbten,
Von bogenförmigen
8.
Versteifungen geteilten bauch
9. Was ist mit mir geschehen?
10.
Meine vielen, im Vergleich
Zu meinem sonstigen Umfang
11.
Kläglich dünnen Beine
12.
Flimmerten mir hilflos
Vor den Augen
13.
Was ist mit mir geschehen?
14. Was ist mit mir geschehen?
15.
Es war kein Traum. Mein Zimmer,
Ein richtiges, nur etwas
16.
zu kleines Menschenzimmer
17.
lag ruhig zwischen den vier
wolhbekannten Wänden
18.
Was ist mit mir geschehen?
19. Was ist mit mir geschehen?
[Kafka – Die Verwandlung]
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3. |
||||
Laying waste to the city of Jerusalem
Destroying all evil creed of this world
No holy book, nation king, prophet or son
No word of god, sacred law – all should be gone
Laying waste to the city of Jerusalem
Destroying all evil creed of this world
No temple mount, church of the holy sepulchre,
dome of the rock – everything should be gone
Laying waste to the idea “Jerusalem”
Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob
Moses, David, Solomon, Jonah Baptist John
Jesus Christ and Muhammad – to be forgotten
Laying waste to the idea “Jerusalem”
Destroying all evil creed of this world
Yodh He Waw He, Jehovah, Allah – dead
Inside your mind should be life – live it - think
God is dead.
Laying waste to the city of Jerusalem
Destroying all evil creed of this world
No holy book, nation king, prophet or son
No word of god, sacred law – all should be gone
Laying waste to the idea “Jerusalem”
Yodh He Waw He, Jehovah, Allah – dead
God is dead.
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4. |
A Solemn Ode to Ruin
17:44
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Ah…
All those things of beauty “a joy forever” should they be
But what we build to last is never destined to stand fast
Look ‘round and you will see the ruined state of all that be
All beauty blossoms to be broken and become nothing but a token
What remains is a faint memory of past glory, fading by decree
This is a solemn ode to ruinFor time will make so much forgottenFor fresh will become rotten
A solemn ode to ruin!To doom!To us all!
A solemn ode to ruin!To doom!To us all!And our lives, stillborn or misbegotten
I must be near the middle of my story.O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,With universal tinge of sober gold,Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I sendMy herald thought into a wilderness:There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dressMy uncertain path with green, that I may speedEasily onward, thorough flowers and weed..
Be all about me when I make an end!
[John Keats – Endymion: Book I]
Oh Mensch! Gieb Acht!
Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?
"Ich schlief, ich schlief—,
Aus tiefem Traum bin ich erwacht:—
Die Welt ist tief,
Und tiefer als der Tag gedacht.
Tief ist ihr Weh—,
Lust - tiefer noch als Herzeleid:
Weh spricht: Vergeh!
Doch alle Lust will Ewigkeit
will tiefe, tiefe Ewigkeit!"
[Friedrich Nietzsche – Also sprach Zarathustra]
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5. |
From the Periphery
06:49
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Van de doodse dageraad tot het sterven van het licht
(Onder druk, gejaagd, versteven, zonder rust, belaagd, ontheven)
Sleept het leven,
breekt het leven,
keert het leven
om het even
But look at the cities… Small and insignificant
Look at the tiny minds of people, helpless, selfish, arrogant
Are they worth it? All this suffering?
All the pain and all your thoughts?
In this speck of time and space, they get you burdened and unwrought.
Wijlen wij… We are the choir of grey, of painless solitude
Wijlen wij… We call you out to ascend, be spread like drifting clouds
Wijlen wij… We call you out to descend, among worms there are no doubts
There’s no more peace than high and low
There is no peace in noisy crowds
Redemption is at hand
Just stop your time
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Kostas Panagiotou Wales, UK
Atmospheric music for black hearts
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