There was a country by the sea,
but I cannot say for certain,
whether it was part of a lonely isle,
or merely some coastal region.
A landing-stage of rotten blanks
stretched carefully into the waves,
and for one moment I did wonder,
what frightening purpose it might serve.
O, heavy, roaring, endless seas,
what secrets does this rage entomb?
Have ancient memories or hungry ghosts
gathered all their strength, to call for this storm?
Deep-seated gardens, almost a labyrinth,
walled in by ruins and rocks ivy-clad,
perhaps this strange place had once been a palace,
where now viole(n)t bushes bear dark thorns instead.
A young boy was taking me by the hand
and unerringly he was leading me down
below the gardens, which I hardly remembered,
the moment T took the first step underground.
We came to a room with only small windows,
and to my surprise I could somehow still hear,
though reduced to a murmur, now chant-like and humming,
the once savage voice of the roaring sea.
The boy has built a catacomb, he is living in a tomb,
below the ground, where there's no sound,
he is hiding from the world.
Something resembling an altar was built there,
a secret overshadowed structure and use,
underneath, in inanimate self-contemplation,
lay a jet-black mass of coal-like granules.
Yet, this dark material had an unearthly lightness,
and when I touched it, to feel what it was,
it did seem to totally ignore my presence...-
without leaving a trace, it came trickling off.
Then out of a sudden from under the barrow
something appeared, unexpectedly:
it was the bones of the little boy's mother,
which he had placed with greatest care underneath.
(Chorus)
There must have been something in my look(s),
'cause the little boy started to speak,
and to my unvoiced question of why he had done this,
he answered these words to me:
"This is the only way I can be save from her,
only this can guarantee,
that
