ANOTHER WAY TO LIVE
Counting my steps backward now,
when the winds recede
and silence speaks
of the language fallen
out of the reach,
a time to pause and look around
mountains of clouds,
hang overhead,
the mist feels,
the arid land.
Nothing grows,
but what has grown,
neither dries nor wilts.
Everything is at a standstill.
Fear from the abyss
grips.
What portals these, what sadness,
what dark mist
awaits me there!
A sad mist, a dark mist, the peace in the mist baffles.
Everything else, out of the focus,
the body answers, not the spirit.
The body recedes, the spirit ascends.
I hear the word I am afraid to speak.
I am a child retracing steps.
Like an astral vision
I can grasp a candle beyond the range
as easily as the one within my reach.
It's the candle now I easily see;
the rest of the things are vaguely seen.
My desire has become the will,
this is another way to live.
Counting my steps backward now,
when the winds recede
and silence speaks
of the language fallen
out of the reach,
a time to pause and look around
mountains of clouds,
hang overhead,
the mist feels,
the arid land.
Nothing grows,
but what has grown,
neither dries nor wilts.
Everything is at a standstill.
Fear from the abyss
grips.
What portals these, what sadness,
what dark mist
awaits me there!
A sad mist, a dark mist, the peace in the mist baffles.
Everything else, out of the focus,
the body answers, not the spirit.
The body recedes, the spirit ascends.
I hear the word I am afraid to speak.
I am a child retracing steps.
Like an astral vision
I can grasp a candle beyond the range
as easily as the one within my reach.
It's the candle now I easily see;
the rest of the things are vaguely seen.
My desire has become the will,
this is another way to live.
