Sopor Aeternus

ich dachte mir so, wenn hier schon so schön viele texte sind...joah...dann mach ich auch ma nen thread für eine meiner liebsten bands auf^^ schöne mukke is das


Tanz Der Grausamkeit

Tongue of silence, lick my lips,
steal my thoughts, steal my pride.
My soul lies offered as I'm waiting,
intoxicate me when you step inside...
Hold my hands, my hands are trembling,
your charming beauty takes my breath,
fragrant perfumes veil my senses,
hold my hands sweet tormentress.
Out of darkness we call came from,
flight from darkness is in vain,
I am the banquet, I am delicious.
Into darkness we'll fall back again.
Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen,
an diesem Ort kann ich nicht sein.
Strecke mich nieder, zerschlage mein Haupt,
Meister des Mordes, schenke mir den Tod...
Meister des Mordes, erhære mein Flehen,
beende die Leiden, nimm den Schmerz von mir.
–ffne die Tore, es ist fìr mich Zeit.
Meister des Mordes, dieser Tanz ist Grausamkeit...
Meister des Mordes, nimm meine Augen,
gefangen im Fleische, erb¤rmlich und alt.
Fìhre mich fort in die Dunkelheit,
Vater meiner Seele, dieser Tanz iest Grausamkeit.
Vater meiner Seele, reiŸ mich in den Tod...
...Es tut mir leid.

Todeswunsch

Chill is dripping silently,
I am drowning in myself.
My hope has left me alone and barren,
my grave - the only loving place.
I hate my own loathsome smell,
this stench and old-age and maledorous fear.
How I hate each mortal cell that is rottingly
existing deep inside of me...
I cannot bear the sun so I close me eyes,
it is the perfect day to end this wretched life.
Give me the reason to life so that I might laugh
at least I'll try in bitterness...
Stop the waiting, the cruel waiting for nothing.
All I want is to forget, finally
in Sleep of Death...
I could die just like a christian.
I could fade away in sleep
but I want to die for someone,
for the one who waits for me.
I long to be a sacrifice for the Lord,
my Lord of the Darkest Side.
Everyday is a perfect day, a perfect day for suicide...!
Deliver me from the mindless crowd
when steps grow dumb behind my back.
Save me from their poisoned locks
harassing like daggers through my neck...
Here, where it's like hell to exist
only Death can bring salvation.
Please, release me from my chains that crucify me
to my eternal tribulation.
Here, where even my own image is spitting,
where I have to hide my face.
Where the distress seems so endlessly,
in this god-forsaken place...
In a former time in a long forgotten place,
when the masks and the faces had been identical twins.
As our sanctuaries were locked to hypocritical lies
now befouled they lay bare as they stalked in
so well gisguised...
Suicide, sweet suicide
deepest darkness veils my eyes...
Suicide, sweet suicide
jet-black darkness clouds my mind...
Suicide, sweet suicide
Deepest darkness in my heart...
Suicide, sweet suicide
my unclean soul, I know no light...


9. Drama Der Geschlechtslosigkeit

Bin weder Mann, noch bin ich Frau,
bin irgendwo zwischendrin,
Weiß nicht wohin ich gehöre,
Weiß nicht was ich bin...
Traurigkeit erfüllt meine Seele
in jedem einzelnen Augenblick,
was vor mir liegt kann ich nicht sehen,
doch ich weiß es gibt kein Zurìck...
Bin wie zwölf Seelen, die begraben sind
in einem sich bewegendem Fleisch.
Zwölf grundverschiedenen Hälften,
zu deren Kombination es wohl niemals reicht...

Day Of The Dead

Unexpected...suddenly...as if from nowhere they appear,
the monks are wearing fire-coloured gowns,
their faces, friendly but determined, are hidden behind lacquered masks,
painted black&white, they're having the shape of over-dimensional skulls.

Quickly and nimbly they are moving forward, hopping dextrously,
throwing their legs like ageless jesters...so high up into the air.
Each of them is armed with a short, an even piece of wood,
remarkably resembling...ancient worn-out washing-boards.
Polished to strike ritually...-this is the DAY OF THE remaining DEAD.

On this day we celebrate the expulsion, or rebuke,
of the spirits wich have unintendedly been dragged along.
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten, some have simply been ignored,
these remnants with a gowing hunger...must be exorcised, must be removed.

This ritual alway commences without warning, suddenly,
therefore it cannot be assigned to a certain date of time.
It rather tends to inevitably follow a chain of events,
a special spiritual feature inherent in each and everyone of them.

Put of the sphere of influence...of the sphere of the days to be
the monks are approaching, spinning on their own axis as they dance and sing
and hitting every person present dard between the shoulder-blades
as everyone here is dragging fidget, invisible..."appendages".

As if by change, not expressly invited, we've assembled here today
vehemently we are being hit...and driven through the western gates,
out of the monastery in the direction of the setting sun
a necessary purifying ceremony for the (fragile) days to come...


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Über Den Fluss

He woke up, as his flesh fell off ... slice by slice,
Floating high up in the air, more than ten-thousand miles.
He said, he was crucified underneath a baneful sky,
Had nails through feet and hands,
Yes, also nails in his eyes.
In defiance of all living things he hang there ... upside down,
His poor, vicious face almost touching the ground.
He knows well where he's been,
Don't let him in !!!

He claimed twelve-thousand crucifixes transformed
into distorted sombre trees,
Blood ran down their scarred trunks,
Gushed slowly dripping out of the leaves.
The offering gathered in a chalice, all golden,
Held by the dirty hands of a black-bearded man,
His face sheer spitefulness.
He knows well where he's been;
So, don't let him, don't let him in ...
Don't let him in !!!

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Abschied

"Seinem Geiste bekenne ich mich, ein Sehnen verzehret sein schönes Gesicht, daß, ermattet, von Güte beschattet, allmächtig ist. Sein Körper bewegt sich nicht...- im Traume sich endlich sein Zwingen vergißt. Den heulenden Jubel erkenne ich nicht, der mir den heiligen Frieden zerbricht. Sein schweigender Mund, seine schlafende Brust harren zärtlich der süßen Lust. Sein Körper bewegt sich nicht...- im Traume sich endlich sein Zwingen vergißt."

shadowsphere

This is a sad day here in the world of shades
but even pain has its own beauty
even pain can perform a lovely face.
Blinding stream, double-edged,
in an extra-terrestrial gloom,
beautiful creation of steel
grown in my barren womb...
They way into the light will separate me from my flesh,
myriads in their birth-giving red
swimming forcefully through-out space.
This darkest space is wide
and the mountain is still so high,
fly up my black little eyes
and cross the frontiers that dare to define my life...
No space too vast and surely no place too far,
the groping sister feels that her eyes
must be somewhere alive.
So she is afraid of all the dwellers of the dark
in their blindness they will never understand
the tempting gift of sight.
This place is cold, blindly she can feel
the dead wind caressing the rocks
from high above they come way down,
these angels kissing our undead bodies to stone...

the sleeper

[by Edgar Allan Poe]

At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin molders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!
O, lady bright! can it be right-
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop-
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully- so fearfully-
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
For ever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold-
Some vault that oft has flung its black
And winged panels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
Of her grand family funerals-
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone-
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.

may i kiss your wound

Two half figures stand ashore
the darkest lake embraced by cold
veils of mist and icy breath
blows the leaves away...
And the old black trees spread their long dead arms.
As the souls of the dead call across the water
they both step down into the coldest depth...

Sopor Aerternus - Sopor fratrem mortis est

"... kiss the corpse, the blessed sigh, enter the garden of the night.
Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Every soul is starving here ..."

The silence of the graves is not silent at all:
Millions of the dead are crying in their graves,
But no-one can hear them ... no-one ever hears ...
No-one can hear them ... Except for the dead themselves.

We can't die, no we can't die,
It doesn't even matter if we try.
We fear/hate the living, we shun the light,
Our beloved tombs keep us sheltered inside.
Sleep ... sleep is the brother of death,
So lie down beside this skeleton in the coldness of the grave,
Let the embrace of his dead arms keep you all save and sound.
Buried in slumber ... silently ... Forever beneath the ground.

Stalk "The night", if that's your wish,
With your foolish garlic-chain and crucifix,
Yet, if you find our graves, we won't be there,
There are thousands of places left for our despair.

And every night it's the same again:
"The feast of Blood is about to begin !"
We are wretched ... pathetic ... the flickering souls,
But staging our pain is all part of the whole.
And when all lights are fading, leaving but a fleeting glow,
Then, after far too many years, it's time for us to go.

"Kiss the corpse - the blessed sigh - walk in the garden of the night.
Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Cause every soul is starving here.
Hold the carcass, sweetest lie, bury the body you chose to deny,
Shed a tear, suspended in fear ... - Every soul is starving here."

Va|r|nitas vanitas (Omnia vanitas)

Knochen verbrennen bei 760°C, und damit ist eigentlich auch schon alles gesagt.
Komm' und laß' uns spielen "König und Königin", dreimal darfst Du raten, wer von beiden ich dann bin!
Doch im Grunde ist das alles einerlei, zu Staub werden wir zerfallen und sind dann... ach... ohnehin gleich!
Dennoch muß ich bekennen, die Einsicht fällt zuweilen schwer, Dinge an denen wir hängen, geben wir nur höchst ungern her.

Oh, alles ist vergänglich und existiert nur kurze Zeit,
wovor wir uns so fürchten, ist meistens bloße Eitelkeit.
Was and're von uns glauben, ist flüchtig, wie ein Furz im Wind.
Laß' sie denken, was sie wollen, es gibt Dinge, die wirklich wichtig sind!
Komm', schließe Deine Augen und sag' geschwind: WAS KANNST DU SEH'N?
Schaust du mit off'nem Herzen, werden selbst garst'ge Monster wunderschön...

"Beauty comes from the inside and so does ugliness! Yet, make-up is my armour, Dear, and I must hide my face. One and one is sometimes three, sometimes nothing at all, all is mortal, all is vain ...- and mortal things must fall!"

Across the Bridge

From far beyond the veil of sleep
some ancient voice does seem
to whisper my forgotten name
weakly, yet solemnly.
So remotely that one might think
it had been but a dream,
echo of some illusive call
of fleeting memory.
Yes, to believe such vain idea
no problem it would be,
if there was not this inscrutable
unrest within me...
As if out of the deepest sea
some creature seeks to rise,
to wish its long denied existance
back into my life.
My secret name is whispered
by a half-forgotten sigh
and out of nothing, across my face,
which is all petrified.
Hot tears are running without end.
A deeply troubling pain
pulls me together inwardly,
to be no more the same...
From far beyond the veil of sleep
some tune, ne'er before heard,
is trav'lling on a fragile breath,
to shake my frozen world.

sopor aeternus - abschied

Seinem Geiste bekenne ich mich,
ein Sehnen
verzehret sein schönes Gesicht,
daß, ermattet, von
Güte beschattet, allmächtig ist.
Sein Körper bewegt sich nicht...-
im Traume sich endlich sein
Zwingen vergißt.
Den heulenden Jubel erkenne ich
nicht,
der mir den heiligen Frieden zerbricht.
Sein schweigender Mund, seine schlafende Brust
harren zärtlich der süßen Lust.
Sein Körper bewegt
sich nicht...-
im Traume sich endlich sein Zwingen
vergißt.

something wicked this way comes...

I.
Perhaps this is the saddest story, it is full of pain and hurt, because, of all the names and phrases of this mortal world,
there is only one that I hate more than any other, and this most disgusting term is the one of "mother".

II.
Maybe this is the saddest story, it is full of pain and hurt, because, of all the names and phrases of this mortal world,
there is only one that I fear more than any other, and this most terrifying term is the one of "mother".

I.
Perhaps this is the saddest story, it is full of pain and hurt, because, of all the names and phrases of this mortal world,
there is only one that I hate more than any other, and this most disgusting term is the one of "mother".

Sopor Aeternus - Sieh', Mein Geliebter, Hier Hab' Ich Gift


"Schatten, Schatten komm' herbei, auf diesem Lager harrt ein Leib! Die Brust, die unstet Steigt und sinkt, der Atem neues Leid nur bringt...!" Ein Seufzen, schwach, er zittert arg, sein trüber Blick nimmt nichts mehr wahr, sein Stummer Mund Sagt: "Laß' mich geh'n!", und jede Faser scheint zu flehen. In Schmerzen mein Geliebter liegt, als hätt' die Zeit den Tod besiegt...

Als er erneut die Augen schließt, hoff' ich, daß er die Nacht begrüßt. Seine Hand ist kalt, er spürt mich nicht ..., doch plötzlich dreht er sein Gesicht direkt zu mir und sieht mich an, hebt leicht das Haupt und flüstert dann: "Laß' mich Sterben, laßf' mich geh'n! Ich kann bereits die Andern seh'n!" Dreimal Spricht er's mit klarem Blick, dann sinkt ins Kissen er zurück ...

Mein Mantel liegt schwer auf dem Tisch, aus seiner Tasche nehme ich den kleinen Flacón, blau-violett und setz' mich zu ihm an das Bett. "Hier hab' ich Gift, Geliebter mein, dies wird beenden Leine Pein!" Ich hebe sanft den Kopf ihm am, so Schwach ist er, daß er kaum schlucken kann. "Kein Tropfen soll verschwendet sein, denn dies hier läßt den Tod herein...!"

Er leert das Glas bis auf den Grund, ein Lächeln umspielt seinen Mund. Ich bette seinen Kopf zurück, er sieht mich an mit klarem Blick...

Die Morgensonne scheint warm in den Raum, ich schaue ins Licht, es ist wie im Traum, denn ich seh' am off'nen Fenster ihn steh'n mit gütigem Lächeln, so wunderschön! Ich lchle zurück, er neigt leicht das Haupt, winkt sanft mir zum Abschied und löst sich dann auf...

Ich küsse den Leichnam, berühr' seine Hand, seine Züge sind friedlich, weich und entspannt. Mein Geliebter ist fort, nur sein Leib ist geblieben ..., ihn werd' ich begraben. "RUHE IN FRIEDEN ..."

Sopor Aeternus - No-One Is There

Now and then I'm scared, when I seem to forget how sounds become words or even sentences ... No, I don't speak anymore and what could I say, since no-one is there and there is nothing to say ...

So, I prefer to lie in darkest silence alone ... listening to the lack of light, or sound, or someone to talk to, for something to share ...- but there is no hope and no-one is there.

No, no, no ...- not one living soul and there is nothing (left) to say, in darkness I lie all alone by myself, sleeping most of the time to endure the pain.

I am not breathing a word, I haven't spoken for weeks and yet the mistress inside me is (secretly) straining her ears. But there is no-one, and it seems to me at times that with every passing hour another word is leaving my mind ...

I am the mistress of loneliness, my court is deserted but I do not care. The presence of people is ugly and cold and something I can neither watch nor bear.

So, I prefer to lie in darkness silence alone, listening to the lack of light, or sound, or someone to talk to, for something to share ...- but there is no hope and no-one is there.

No, I don't speak anymore and what should I say, since no- one is there and there is nothing to say? All is oppressive, alles ist schwer, there is no-one and NO-ONE IS THERE ...