On this earth packed with cannibals
one stays far underneath, the table
at which they sat has cracked,
one stays far underneath, the table
at which they sat has cracked,
in the glasses have remained the eyes
needed to kill, nothing moves the killers,
they swallow all that awaits our death
and all that remains foreign,
and all that remains foreign,
they lead us to death to the new
resurrection, the joy of living shakes me
like thunder – I hear the golden voice
resurrection, the joy of living shakes me
like thunder – I hear the golden voice
of the aurora who does not let her mystery escape.
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