This is a sad day here in the world of shades

but even pain has its own beauty

even pain can perform a lovely face.

Blinding stream, double-edged,

in an extra-terrestrial gloom,

beautiful creation of steel

grown in my barren womb...

They way into the light will separate me from my flesh,

myriads in their birth-giving red

swimming forcefully through-out space.

This darkest space is wide

and the mountain is still so high,

fly up my black little eyes

and cross the frontiers that dare to define my life...

No space too vast and surely no place too far,

the groping sister feels that her eyes

must be somewhere alive.

So she is afraid of all the dwellers of the dark

in their blindness they will never understand

the tempting gift of sight.

This place is cold, blindly she can feel

the dead wind caressing the rocks

from high above they come way down,

these angels kissing our undead bodies to stone...