Do not write a testament

Straight, straight, straight, the sun
Wait until she reaches the midnight clock
In an approaching casket
to the day

Do not ask yourself which day will be buried
To mourn the sadness.

Gold tents, black slats in the sky
Under the stars cross, next to the moon

Stand in mourning, in grave crystal,
In the torchlight, prayers explode.

Fight with the rattling shadow
Sing the song of life to a stifled death.

Stop paying attention to roaring organs
Deep song of the deceased.

Sleep in the dream in deep, open graves
White-robed angel with silent servants there

Dance in the arms of death
before you wake up the last time

Glowing moon, in deep faith the night
Included in the price, panting a song, from the peace very deeply.

Lean in on the dying me
Full of humility, kneeling before it.

Carpenter still with a clear mind
Your own, your casket.

Do not write a testament to a saint
And thank you for being here.