Am I a criminal, my sin is great…
Am I a jest, am I with holy things…
Am I a liar, let me then plummet from Heaven
and be crushed on your square.
Am I a liar –
then let unholy spirits bury my lyre
in rotting lakes of sulphur,
let it then stretch out the arms in prayer in moonlit nights
where no living thing passes.
Am I a liar –
then let my wonderful name be erased from the heaven’s wall,
let the pearl letters be crushed against the rocks of the ocean,
let the waters keep secret wherefrom I came,
let the world never hear my fairytale.
Am I a liar –
then the beautiful angels will still love me
like a nice, unholy brother:
she told fairytales to the moon and the heavens,
without them they couldn’t endure
and their fragile beauty would waste away.