Faust Sonnengesang ★★★★★

I speak with an ever-changing voice in this film.
You feel bold before the charred head, rising from the fire and bursting.
You are quiet and burn up in this fire, which burns through the fire of lust
Through the fire of jealousy
Through the fire of hatred
Through the fire of falsity
Through Birth, Age, Death.
Your heart burns.
You are the Buddha in your mother's womb
You are the dead one in the fire.
You are the dead one in the Ganges.
You are your father on his deathbed.
You are the voice of God in the roaring surge.
You are the gurgling of the Ganges.
You are the grumbling of the holy cows, their rhythmic ruminating of the Now, in the pupils of the river. In the river dead holy cows, whose holy eyes are being pecked out by ravens.
You are a black flickering Sun-Ball.
With the mirrored fire of the Now
Empty eye sockets in a charred head, which rolls out of the pyre towards the river
In which sun sets.
Everything is burning.
The sun is burning
Your life is burning
Time burns a hole in our theater of the Now
This costume of skin and bone is burning
Your heart burns this paper
Everything burns and does not burn up.
This fire from the heavens burns us.
From the heart from our Mother Tongue, when faced with the pyres.
Everything burns.
Tongues burn
The newspapers, the television, everything burns
The news burns
Everything burns, when faced with the holy theater of death.
Where our body, the actor
Of our soul treading the boards, that represent our world and our our failures are consumed.
Our flesh burns
Our desires burn
Our tongue skilful in many languages,In many tastes, In many caresses burn.
Everything that we spoke in the light, in the night of our flesh, in now present in this theater.
The shadow kiss
And the love appears
The secret Queen of the Now.
And you, and you, and you
Pathetic I casts a net
The red threads of the heart
They burn the loved ones over you.
Orion burns
Its belt burns
The three stars burn
Everything burns but your time is your time.
Holy the candle and the shadows, of its flickering across these lines.
Holy the strokes of the gong.
Every burns, everything holy on the pyre of the world.
Everything burns in the theater of death.
In the theater of the Now
through the boards
Before our heads incapable of understanding the world
When faced with the pyres
On the way to a now beyond language.
Everything burns.
Language burns
The tongue of Now burns
The courts burn in the theater of the judgment Now.
Everything burns in the fire of human flesh becoming ash.
The inherited guilt of Auschwitz as a cross to bear, moves this pen over the white of the paper.
The stars burn salt into the wound of heaven blood into the mirror of the ocean.
The fire at your feet is extinguished now.
The fire of hatred against all those constantly moving, to explode the silence in the air.
The holy theater of now is burning
Concentration burns the bodies in television
The veil of Maya burns
Electronic worms eat the brain
Everything burns inside the head
Through the fire of lust
Through the fire of jealousy
Through the fire of hate
Through the fire of falsity
Through Birth, Age, Death.
Through sorrow, mourning, suffering, bad temper, despair
Everything burns your heart.
Dreams are a part of the Hereafter
Now the Tongue that utters this now burns
This fire in the theater of the now
All holy time burns
Death is the deus ex machina
The fires of the Now in the holy theater of death burn incessantly for three thousand years, bathed by the water of the ganges.
The water that burns
The earth that burns.

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