There was a Country by the Sea

There was a country by the sea, but I cannot say for

certain, whether it was part of a lonely isle, or

merely some coastal region.

A landing-stage of rotten blanks stretched carefully

into the waves, and for one moment I did wonder, what

frightening purpose it might serve.

O, heavy, roaring, endless seas, what secrets does this

rage entomb? Have ancient memories or hungry ghosts,

gathered all their strength, to call for this storm?

Deep-seated gardens, almost a labyrinth, walled in by

ruins and rocks ivy-clad, perhaps this strange place

had once been a palace, where now viole(n)t bushes bear

dark thorns instead.

A young boy was taking me by the hand and unerringly he

was leading me down below the gardens, which I hardly

remembered, the moment I took the first step

underground.

We came to a room with only small windows, and to my

suprise I could somehow still hear, though reduced to a

murmur, now chant-like and humming, to once savage

voice of the roaring sea.

The boy has built a catacomb, he is living in a tomb,

below the ground, where there's no sound, he is hiding,

from the world.

Something resembling an altar was built there, a secret

overshadowed structure and use, underneath, in

inanimate self-contemplation, lay a jet-black mass of

coal-like granules.

Yet, this dark material had an unearthly lightness, and

when I touched it, to feel what it was, it did seem to

totally ignore my presence ...-without leaving a trace,

it came trickling off.

Then out of a sudden from under the barrow something,

appeared, unexpectedly: it was the bones of the little

boy's mother, which he had placed with greatest care

underneath

[Chorus]

There must have been something in my look(s), 'cause

the little boy started to speak, and to my unvoiced

Question of why he had done this, he answered these

words to me:

"This is the only way I can be save from her, only this

can guarantee, that she will not rise again, because

when she does, she is always following me.

There's just no alternative, I cannot escape from her,

because as soon as I try, she will get up again, merely

to haunt me...-oh, believe me, I have tried numerous

times!

But here in these vaults I have finally found something

that works like a seal, these jet-black granules do

keep me from harm, and her bones can no longer hurt me.

Piled up in a certain, specific form, all the remains

must be covered with it, then everything keeps still

and for a brief moment I can pretend, that she does not

exist.

Yet, all the time I must be on my guards, because now

and then it can happen indeed, that frequently the

earth does tremble and shaken, and some of the stones

are Starting to slip.

So, constantly I have to control the barrow, the jet-

black darkness of the coal-like mass, in order to be

there, to repair the damage, to pile all back safely

and to replace..."

The boy has built a catacomb, he is living in a tomb.

below the ground, where there's no sound, he is hiding

from the (terrible) world. It took me a while to

realism that we all have secrets and fears ...- is it

then a surprise that we close our minds from the pain

that is causing these tears ?