Earth, on your back I have built a castle for conquerors,
there the strong ones shall find shelter,
the strong ones who are waiting.
There stand the melancholy windows
and speak of crashed destinies,
there you must walk young, you bronze people
with tremors, alike myself.
And your chest shall ring like a spring storm
whipping the windows with wet wings.
Blessed, laughing you shall grasp a new star with your hands,
and then your features darken, your gaze falls on the ground.
What power does this arm add to the sword
which shall pierce – – – – – –
– – – – – – – –
Young chest… From where do you derive all your light?