BernsteinmeerengeL [English translation]

Flocks of angels plummet lurching into a sea of ​​resin

And become trapped in transparent gold.

Once their wings were white as snow, their eyes black,

Now they do not hear anymore, as the thunderous sky growls.

They are still trying to swim,

Twitching bodies, as far as the eye can see.

Already the first voices are silent,

Until the scream finally gives way to dead silence.

No reasons.

No sin.

No mercy. No wingbeat.

Neither forgiveness

Nor revival,

Because nobody can save them.

And in the holy light

They are all alone,

Preserved until the last day

In stone.

Sometimes at night, the storm stirs even the deepest water,

The sun glows pale and yellow in the morning mist,

Then the encased beings are flushed to the beach,

And a thousand questions push finders to the mind.

Embedded like insects,

Frozen, preserved in endless torture.

The perfect, immaculate,

Were they not the first and the better choice?

No reasons.

No sin.

No mercy. No wingbeat.

Neither forgiveness

Nor revival,

Because nobody can save them.

And in the holy light

They are all alone,

Preserved until the last day

In stone.

But before that came

Disobedience,

Then astonishment and furrowed brow.

Neither forgiveness

Nor revival,

Preserved until the Last Judgment.

And in the holy light

They are all alone,

Until salvation follows—or doesn't—

from existence.

And now you're wearing a washed-up fragment on your skin

On a chain on your tender, warm breast.

Only one feather still bears witness to the suffering, well-stowed away,

You are only aware of the beauty there in the stone.