---

In clouds of distress

a distorted ray of light,

glowing through mist

unstable and harrowed,

the sheen is long gone

the wind carries the smoke,

fading embers

illuminate the place where -

stone by stone, a sculpture of existence

rises from ground painted red,

in the reflection the twisted flesh

searching for pieces to merge,

the blocks hewn with tears

carved with cold sweat.

Covering letters of past

that won't come back

a new sun and a new moon

will kindly bury the torments.

I'm crumbling!

Crumbling!

The statue so high, dripping with pride,

swinging gently in the wind,

the great cracks on its back

supplant from consciousness,

staring into the crust

filled with the pictures of fright.

One word to unleash dread,

to tear apart the dream,

to let the ground painted blood

sprouting the thorny sprigs,

scarlet covered the eyes,

duhka's streams flowed,

rumbling pierced the air

the stones tasted the land.

I'm crumbling!

I'm begging, help me!

Crumbling!

Naked and helpless!

Crumbling!

I'm crumbling!

From sculpture to cinder,

from stone to dust,

reflection and the statue

now became one,

from sculpture to cinder

from stone to dust.

Shades of despair

harassed the flesh,

Entwined the thoughts

revealed your face!