Dark Mirror Ov Tragedy - The Noumenon I Carved

Stars! Were born in the shadows the sun carved.
Your deep silence and heart embraced darkness.
I will know reaon why they are.

Stars! Were born in the shadows the sun carved.
Where you are
There is full of untruth story not calm.
Lightless space,
There is full of injustice sound not empty.

In darkness! What nobody can see,
Deep breathing of a lion,
Fought against truth and purity,
Libra, be turned over already,
Seven jewels, be fragments of the crown,
Everything, I can see.

Leave untruth and violence,
Recollection of her forgotten the silver's world,
An arrow sung the pain of the immortal,
A wandering black bear's trace,
Everything, I can know.
In there, the name of us is indefinite.
In there, the conversation of yours is false.
In there, like a calling, everything becomes dishonesty,
Ascribe it to destiny.

Nowhere that there cannot reach.
There is a face of mother, even it is closing its eyes and not seeing.
There is a cry of children, even it is closing its ears and not hearing.
Since when is the place be?
To the place, no future, only the fast survives.
To the place, against the truth and towards the untruth.

Who see the place at first time?
In silence, injustice sings,
In darkness, dispassion burns.

Srars,
When you disappear, does darkness disappear also?
Are you the being who brighten the darkness?
Or darken the darkness more?
Is your silence for imparting of false desolation?
Or facing down the false sound?

Stars,
When you disappear, does darkness disappear also?
Is only darkness the being which brighten you?
Is your darkness just a shadow of indefinite being in there?
Or scar from fake darkness?

You are the being who never leave the darkness.
Do I see you stars?
Do I see there, the darkness in there?
Is it the past? Is it the future?

False swan spirals up farther than
A brushing breeze following the trail of a falling star,
Disappears beyound the clouds being alone.
Spear of star scintillation which pegasus
Chases divides the shadows.
Proceeds to the future looks like the past in the mirror.

Stars,
You don't remember one.
You burn by the light which you embrace.
You are blind by the light which you hide.

The space,
Darkness and untruth sing in.
Injustice and dead times are full in.
If no there, the stars cannot be.

Stars!! Открыть страницу с текстом

Before the mirror, I start a dance with myself.
My thoughts in the mirror flow endlessly like a heart,
My eyes, like my emotions flow fiercely.

Look at the mirror.
Before the mirror, I start a dance with myself.
He knows what I see, he feels what I hear.
Like a seabird with spread wings flying to-wards the horizon,
Dependiing on nothing else, only dancing alone.

Dancer:
The moon rises over the mirror.
My shadow grows depper. Heavy droplets
Of sweat bury under my shadow.
Under the moon,
I hold my breath, listening carefully to someone else's.
Listen to his sounds, feel his breath.
Never seen before, his dance portrays nothing.
His dance born alone, exists alone, is eternal
The moon rises over the mirror.
My shadow grows depper. Heavy droplets
Of sweat bury under my shadow.

Mirror:
The reflection of the moon in the mirror.
His shadow in the mirror disappears.
Droplets of sweat shimmer with the moon.
Point and flex, his steps bid farewell to mother earth,
As light as a feather, the motion
Of his hands greet an infinite space
On the ground, beads
Of sweat change into chatoyant gems, dazzling all.
His wind-blownhair becomes melodious waves
And croon bewitchingly.
His dance, born alone, exists alone, is eternal.

His dance is not simply transformation
or selection of life.
It is life itself.
And it takes the life from me.
It takes my tears and anguish into itself.
It takes all my times and memories into itself.
The flames burn up over the mirror
And his dance moves more beautifully. It burns, it burns.
His dance burns like the eternally burning flames.
it burns infinitely like the shaking fire.

My hands follow his hands,
My eyes follow his eyes to listen to his breath,
To be in communion with his gestures,
I walk towards him.
To receive his dance, I walk into the mirror.

The dance in the mirror,
When me and the flames become one,
My soul, it returns.

Dancing a dance,
Til The moment the body wilts and fades away,
I'll dance until the last drops of sweat fall down.

The dance in the mirror,
When me and flames become one, my soul,
It returns. Открыть страницу с текстом

"Follow me"
Run through walls, go with your voice.
Walls and window frames I built,
I see your eyes through them,
If your eyes are not moon's color,
Ceiling and floors I draw, your breath fills them,
If your breath is not scent of dusk,
Stairs and pillars I carved,
Your gesture drifts across them,
If your gesture is not a flame of rose,
You're just a woman in dream.

Burn crossbeams and pillars across the edifice.
The white wallpaper which means the north,
A spiral staircase showing the sun,
They become an endless gallery of marble,
Window of ceiling which the breeze blows,
They become a living room having 
A pond the raindrop made to meet you again,
Erase the world's memory of ichnography,
Evoke your gestures and your traces.
Stack the bricks up again, put all pillars again.

Your footsteps fill somewhere
In my edifice over again.
Like a child who get lost in dream,
I follow your sound in edifice I built.
I start following you even I don't recognize
What I'm doing.
The pillar which you leant and rested against,
Becomes a window showing the hill,
The sculpture of the gate which you kissed
Becomes a terrace floating on the ocean.
All space in which you're disappearing becomes new space,
The end of love never caught falls
To appearing among the walls.
The end sticking thorns fully is singing
With bleeding love.
Your end drawing blood on ceilings and floors,
Walls and pillars of my edifice.
My hands are almost touching it.
But it's vanishing somewhere.

Now, the edifice on my ichnography,
is becoming the space no one can leave,
fills with blood of your moonlight,
your dusk, your flame, and your love.

Burn crossbeams and pillars across the edifice.
The white wallpaper which means the north,
A spiral staircase showing the sun,
They become an endless gallery of marble,
Window of ceiling which the breeze blows,
Fireplace of red bricks burning always,
They become a living room having
A pond the raindrop made to meet you again,
Erase the world's memory on ichnography,
Evoke your gestures and your traces,
Stack the bricks up again, put all pillars again,
If I finish building it, you never escape from me. Открыть страницу с текстом

All spirits in the world will be silent,
See the heat and nebulosity beyond their power,
Dread the dance of my fingers,
This passion staying alive silences everything with serene death.
This wild wind breathing leads everything to light eternal.
The world like the trapped flame in ice,
Like the wind in the portrait.
I will give you the world which only the dead feel.
My passion is faster than my thought, more intense than my hand.
More splendid than notes of music.

Your passion, it is mortal shadow.
Someday disappear.
The sun will leave and close eyes when the night comes
The raindrops, like the ice passing through the flame,
like the wind touching the portrait,
It will be a sound of cold wave before it touches the ground.
Without me, your motion is the flight feathers of blind bird.
Your music is a shadow's afterimage of the candle light.
You must remember.
It is my sound and echoes, not your respiration,
In darkness.

My passion!
Where my two hands point, do you know!
My madness!
Where my fingers reach, do you know!

Infatuate the wandering night, force it to kiss my hand
The ends are on my hands!
My passion! My madness!

Hand, the glorious death stigma to the keys!
In pallid landscape, nobility is luminous alone!
Nobility on my hands stand on all chaos
This chaos yearn lucidity of glouriously luminous stigma
Wind of life it cannot pass through the hands.
Hand, make a new wind, make everything obey.
Wind, make discipline of death rule the world.

My sound, my legacy,
Not the shadow hands draw,
Not lucidity, it doesn't rule the chaos, 
Chaos is a shabby boat drifting on the contradiction.

Stigma you give me is a shadow of contradiction.
Like light dew, vanished to embrace of sunlight
Where is the truth?
Everything must start as calm and finish as calm.
And you also die in the calm, It must be.
Sweat shimmer with the moon,
Point and flex.
His steps bid farewell to mother earth,
As light as a feather, the motion
Of his hands great an infinite space,
On the ground, beads of sweat change into chatoyant gems,
Dazzling all.
His wind-blown hair becomes melodious waves
And croon bewitchingly.
His dance, born alone, exists alone, is eternal. Открыть страницу с текстом

The sunshine from behind the high clouds,
Becomes glory and laudation itself,
Dances on whole world
The truth of all creatures
Which are breating on the earth,
Like the wind from south,
Burns passionately in everyone's heart.
Lucidity, like river of morning,
Takes them and flies over the world
Of splendor and nobility.
The season of purity,

Oh. My flesh and blood in abyss
Is too Scandalous to walk on crooning stones.
My flesh and blood in abyss
My silence can answer as a pain.
My hands left with starvation can sayest only chaos,
My eyes are shattering by wind like sand
In a broken sandglass.
Horrible my body!
Close my eyes on the battlefield, open my eyes on the dead.
My time left, it looks like a broken sandglass as my eyes.

Soprano:
Please, don't deride thyself. Don't be in agony.
On the morrow, I will bring thou to a sea of morning and kiss thy spirit.
Don't be afraid, do not suffer.
Sky will spread wings on thy shoulder, bring thou to my embrace.
Everlasting light, just follow my light.

Choir:
Look at me
My flesh and blood breaths in abyss
Look at me
My flesh and blood talks as pain
Just follow your shadow
Look at me
My flesh and blood breaths in abyss
Look at me
My flesh and blood talks as pain
Just follow your shadow

The thorn of completeness pierces me,
The blood what I bleed,
It will be grace and praise for them,
Dance under the whole world.
I will embrace the fire of beauty as a triumph wreath,
Burn my flesh,
Dedicate ash of truth to them.
Genial wind takes my flesh
And blood to cliff falling eternally.
For the morrow!
For the morrow what I see!

Soprano:
can I be adopted one the morrow what I see
Like a voice from wind of dreary highland

Can I answer in truthful dialogue?
Can I go?
Can I be adopted one the morrow what I see?
Their grace is crystalline tower for me?
Beings of genuine beauty never touch and approach. Открыть страницу с текстом

The sculptures, look each other in adorability,
Do they breathe?
Before I breathe life into them, they already become stiff whitely,
Smiles at their lips are dim like the sea fog under the crescent,
Eyes of them fade away like rotten soil beneath lightless gorge.
Sculptures that you call love
They become just neat and light pieces of stone before they leave my hands.
Images that you call love
They become the actors of a play which are full of garbled speech.

Can you feel me?
What do they talk about?

I stand on the immense rock which no one knows the origin,
Listen to all love's whisper.

And I carve the rock.
Live eternal after it leaves my hand
Drawing the image of love.

I carve the rock slowly.
White, clean smile and sigh of regret.
I draw this everything.
I peel the shall of rock, with the truth's story,
I carve the image of love.
My eyes see the scene I change the immense rock into the image of love.

Love eternal.

I carve the image of love
With my two hands touching wild and cold surface.
There is only a precipice Открыть страницу с текстом

The essence off all creation
They made all sound and music by being collided with each other
The sound of truth
You've never seen and heard

Close your eyes!
There is a touch of the sound of truth in everything,
In a shiver of dying thorn of the rose,
In silence of eyes when they're facing parting,
In extinction of a last streak of sunshine,
And candle on wind,
In lamentation of time till the candlelight goes out.
Not my ears, my soul listen to them.

Can you hear it?
The music, be playing on the link of existences.
Whisper of
The world's shadow the sun draws,
And the wind
Be running through dying star.
Symemtry of
The grave's lapse mist represses slowly,
And moonlight's dance
Be shining on shaking cradle.
There are numerous consonances in the invisible links.

All of these can be note and rest,
The wine glass's seriousness,
Filled with wine from tears,
The time's warmth, filled in dark rock under the sea,
The future map's hope, the traveller draws
Before fell asleep,
The red lake's wave the anther dust will be approached
All of these can be sound and score.

I don't need any paper and pen.
The sounds what my soul listen to, itself becomes score,
Conduct itself, play itself.
In complete harmony and play
There is more passionate life than
The composer of writhe,
And brighter fervent than
The perspiration on any players.

The symphony of truth, hotter than my burning soul.
Music, the sound of all creation's essence and
Links of essence made.
This is the symphony.
The sound of essence what I found.
It fills my spirit and world.
The world of truth where you'll never reach.
I fill my spirit and the world
With this world's symphony of truth.

The essence of all creation,
They made all sound
And music by being collided with each other.
The sound of truth.
You've never seen and heard.
I'll enter the world where this sound resounded
And compose the symphony by the sound of truth in this world. Открыть страницу с текстом