Mein Ton [English translation]

It came to me in my sleep

Or better: it woke me up.

Soft fine waves in the glass,

from which I have apparently already drunk from,

and which now stands half-full on my bedside table

Yet I was still in heaven

Not in the home of the gods

Or the one god,

No, I was flying.

I wandered through the firmament and the universe, through the stellar vault

Or simply only through the stratosphere

on a visible sound

Now I know that you can't generally see sounds,

but I swear, one was there.

I sat upon it and float with it through the night,

I propel it, the visible sound

Under us are the millions of lights of my town,

Fearful, almost panicked screams, scattered of course,

aroused moaning, here and there,

and at this time not rare,

shrouded by the regular humming of motors

The town has many noises

My sound, however, was the only one that carried me

away over all these large town cacophonies

Blinking it hits me that there must be more,

I can hear it.

The night wind seems to distort my curtains with this music

With my eyes quickly closed again

as the reaction to this ghostly movement of the curtains,

I see the sound again.

It rears,

lets me sit upon it

and goes on.

Which color does it have?

How should I know that?

Can you describe colors that sweep through your head?

Whose illusions change from moment to moment?

I can't

And certainly not while half-asleep

Certainly I can explain how it looked.

For now, while I sleep,

I see it completely clearly.

Without any explainable colors, though,

but I see the twists and turns,

which I allow to perform, riding on it through the night.

Here a hook, like a hare,

And here a leap, one that a warhorse could not set higher and further

Over nothing

It almost seems as though we're dancing to a rhythm,

that comes from neither me nor it

In all its irregularity the town seems to pulse under us,

Faster, faster and faster I ride through the night

and link other sounds,

that were still erring, pulled by themselves on my journey

Ah, how magnificently soft, how wide, how large

becomes the throne upon which I now sit.

Sounds are easily found

if you only bid them welcome.

They're wonderful, lackluster on their own

but in a bunch overall vocal and strong.

Sometimes sad, sometimes happy, sometimes soothing

Has put the child to sleep.

And sometimes brewing like a storm,

that tumultuously returns the leaves of trees to the red carpet for the divaesque winter

Oh dear, where is the path leading me,

that I began to take through the night?

Do the reins drive me?

I see no land, I see sea

A sea of sounds

They move into line independently

in our parade over the town.

I sit on top.

A drop runs down the inside of the glass,

from which I was just about to drink from

and which now sits empty on my bedside table.

I am awake, back in my bed,

At least I find myself there again

Covered with the duvet and the roof,

I hear the symphony

on which I've just ridden through the night.

Who the Hell is still listening to music at this time

that I have just composed?