Visions, come to me
Close, closest
Stay in my head,
The wildest dreams
This is your scene
Headlight lower
The procession of my dreams
Is whirling for you
Where did the snow come from
In the middle of summer
Where does this saxophone
Playing under the skull come from
The mirrors of the whole world
Are already exploding
And the time is pulsing
Infinitely slow
The night of the comet is coming
The rain of blazing meteors
You will not know from the newspaper
Who will survive one’s death
Gleams, reflections, the flood of gilt,
Southern Crosses
And star dust
The pile of diamonds
Which with cold light
Will be burning
Till the end of days
The night of the comet is coming...
Dawn with a pale hand
Will wipe away sweat and tears
The nightmare will pass off
The sultry dreams will disappear