On a struggle between complacency and aspiration. |
My beautiful sardonic light Taunt, taunt, taunt I’ve made my roots too thick And they are too far into the ground Der Herrgott gibt (gives) Der Herrgott nimt (takes, takes, takes away) They are too far into the ground to pull out now Not even the most tempting of your tricks can fool Those blinded by the rain The light makes little Elysian circles on the ground That are far away from my branches I am unable to reach them I shall sing a sad paean I will weep onto a withering willow Light is overrated, as they say Yet it does not justify my desperation Darkness is much too low for me I am raised up I am bare in my pale, pallid splendor I do In weakness Turn all my pebbles to bread And gorge, a horrible glutton Digress to an everlasting presence Only digress But I do hold tightly to it To everything that makes me better The soil around me begins to crack Dry, soon I will be barren But suddenly Desperately (as long as I clutch it) The light is mine Captured For my own My roots grow deeper They increase in thickness A sincere panegyric I am no longer bitter And all the ethereal angels sing to me For At least A short time |