I. Rejoice! Oh may the woodwinds’ thrill be heard through day and night, and homes and woods! May blurt the dizzy trumpets’ horn through roots and stems and doors and walls! May blabber mighty contrabass and brass may tremble on the grass and drums and strings and other things with fierce may pierce the holy air and snare in the long abyss and may the curtain rip! II. Oh, silence. Where forests stand unfallen blooming. Where clear streams carry debris away in the rivers and oceans. Where time stands just like a poplar. A parrot, an eagle, a crow, all feathered beasts gathered in a tree of disease and death. Oh, no trumpets called off the feast. All, with bright speckled feathers and slick and charcoal black and gray unremarkable All. No whistle was heard on the cracked drying branch. Oh, stillness. Now look through your eyes: there is neither God here, nor man. Just you, in a vale of wheat, rye and oats. Without deliberation they grow effortlessly, their waves iridescent and permeate glow now persists, having foiled the soils thick mustardly flow. Yes, the winds moved the earth and the water carved stone all alone. Glide your hand on the cultures that live and stand tall, all alone. Oh darkness. An absence of vision. Feel around and find two lips and a snout of a lamb or a calf, digging through hay, restlessly searching for the simple as night yet divine as day Mother’s breast. The crescent that peaked through the fog let a single light drop fall on the barns earthy floor and so you were born. The end. III. Oh, may the winds help carry forth my arms and legs, my skin and bones! My path is long, but so is life. May God reprieve its end. Oh, road’s ripe and bitter scent of kicked up dust and silver spent! See nature die and then revive against the odds. Oh, cryptic sky, divine thoughts Oh, what is this? A herd of goats! - Me-me, - say goats. - Please step away! - Are you a shepard? He looked at me. A strong old man. A hat and boots that suit him well. With iron eyes. I stepped aside. In his coarse hands I saw a knife. - I travel lands from close to far. I have a cloak, a guitar, a trinket, two, but that is all. - I see, - he said - And you’re alone? I gulped. - Why, yes, I wake before the dawn and go to sleep when night is darkest under a tree, which I don’t know, without anyone to trust. - Yes, - said the man - I know your kind. Back when the sky was filled with smoke and roads where full of poor souls who wandered west without home, without rest. You were not born so listen up! These here fields, these cliffs above, these citrus woods, these creaks and meadows, these virgin hills had witnessed war. No, there were no glory in battles, just chaos and weeping and the raw smell of chlor. I was there. We defended with rifles against bombs and grenades that fell ever more. My home laid in ruins, my family - scattered. I starved in the winter and in summer I thirsted. The attackers were fierce, but their pride had well staggered. They abandoned the rigour as their ego had burst. Once our friends had joined the fighting and we cleared the path and attacked from the sea, we struck back with the force of a lightning. They were stabbed, they were shot, they were crushed like a flea. I stood speechless. The scars of the past now I saw. Death had roamed in this valley. But my travels await. And the goats had passed. - Look! By that forest and field of ripe barley stands a house. If you are distraught or dismay roams over like vultures come to me. Because battles are fought not alone. Then he tapped on his hat. And shook dirt off his boot. From his pocket he took out an apple. With the crooked long knife he then cut up the fruit and he gave it to me for a sample. As we parted I thought: oh, laborious winds! May you carry me quickest and furthest! Once time comes, there’s one place I must be - in the house, where barley stands tall by the forest. IV. Time is fleeting, beastly bleating, leaving no hope at the end of life’s dishevelled rope. No uncertainty remains once the reins fall. Death! Death! Death! Death! Snuck behind you, lured and fed you, now she’s come to haunt you, taunt you ruin and absorb you. Death! Death! Death! Death! She will stun you, bid to run, hide, thrash and fight, one's not escape her malevolent gripe! White snow like silence falls. Words are brittle fray. Why dismay? Oh, why this toll? Frail songs of oboe and somber choir of strings remain. All alone. Spring! Young bream and carp now brim the creaks! And gardens rise from callows and fill with pears and figs! And trees of distant morrow now start as feeble shoots to grow and rise and tower as thick and mighty woods! And seeds of past, the stubborn, in time become rich hay, although their only allies are rain, sun and clay! Oh, insects, birds and animals with fur free, unburrow, multiply and stir! Oh, may the trumpets horn roar through night and through day! May thrill the woodwinds in return and drums percuss away! As fire, fire, fire renews this rival nature! As nature, nature, nature refuels bitter flame! Rejoice men! Rejoice prey! Rejoice weeds! Rejoice clay! Rejoice sky! Rejoice sun! Rejoice all! Rejoice now!