To submerge in the ocean without the bottom
And the surface
To sink in the sea without the beginning
And the end
Where the shape and the sens
Is only a fiction
To see blind colours
To hear the words in comparison to which
People's tongues are only a mumble
And the logic ends with other creations
Of defective consciousness
You don't have to be a shade longing for light
You don't have to be an unmourned grave
A night's wilderness
A lonely river running a death's lane
A mournful song on lips of the mads
A scretched wound
Hide for me the silver of the deepest mirrors
Hide the jeveles which nobody found
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