Ballad of despair

We filled time for us to suffer
in this hasty life
and where can we actually find support?
We are all here today, gone tomorrow,
living helpless, earthen…
and that bearded old geezer
only in sketches does he dwell…
who is to hear the requiem of our soul?

Composed we regard hearts
through slits emptying like bags,
strange, though we know we’ll see them
losing love’s quality…
Strange that even in prison
with the rough prison guards
we should simply ask ourselves
who is to hear the requiem of our soul.

There are moments when we praise
the eternal mystic’s notion
that we’ll find salvation in him;
a picture whiter than snow
and though music issues from it
to bathe us with notes of happiness
at heart we’ll ask: “Is this enough?
Who is to hear the requiem of our soul?"

We are not guilty but blameworthy
a head-on collision with our self
a question lasting in time:
who is to hear the requiem of our soul?


Μετάφραση Γιάννη Γκούμα