Phragmokontrolle [Spiralternativ: Fremdkörperson, drittens] [English translation]

Rays glide, flying over you through the dim light.

Broken lies the wreck in grey silt.

Their fins, like wings, churn the sand into dense clouds.

The cleft lips remain closed.

A swarm of them passes by.

You reach towards their tails.

One is enough, you would be free,

yet you do not know how to grip.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Time slips away.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

To your middle!

Round and round. Round and round. Why?

It remains blurry.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Never arrived.

Raised in narrow confines, always under pressure.

Kept small and oppressed by constraints.

Perhaps too little strength, perhaps incorrectly exerted.

Only breath escapes, nothing more has succeeded.

On the outside, too tender and shy,

On the inside only spirals,

You stay true to the descent to your center

and to all of your shells.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Time slips away.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

To your middle!

Round and round. Round and round. Why?

It remains blurry.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Never arrived.

If you cannot stand,

then crawl upon the sand!

If it bursts,

Then a coast awaits

you as well.

It must happen.

You have long called out to the land.

Down here

you merely prolong your existence.

Go, shatter

your snail-shell house!

Your snail-shell house.

Your armored house.

Finally let it all out!

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Time slips away.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

To your middle!

Round and round. Round and round. Why?

It remains blurry.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Never arrived.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Soon faster than the light!

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

No centerpoint in sight.

Round and round. Round and round. Why?

Ready to lose yourself?

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

When will you implode?