Soliloquy of the Stigmatised Shepherd

How long have I been wandering uphill?

My lord, did you paint these meadows?

They are colourless

Roar... agonizing distant noise

Look at me

I kneel down before thee

Bow my head

Cover my ears

Weep...

This soil did never alter in two thousand years

I wonder if it is you who hunts them -

Or are they following me...?

This is a burden I was never taught to heave...

To you I implore, oh father!

Take this noise away from me!

Save me!

Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow

Limp as a doomed horse I resume my way

In tears, on chafed limbs

There is no herb to be laid

Upon the stigmata of immortality's burden

Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow.