St Gallen – Funeral Service – Like clouds we drift through births and deaths! The path of ignorance and of enlightenment!

Prayer and Meditation

Ah, like the clouds we drift through births and deaths! The path of ignorance and the path of enlightenment. We walk them dreaming. Only one thing sticks in my memory, even after waking up. The murmur of the rain that I once listened to in the hut at night. There is a legend that if you suddenly get a dull, eerie shudder.

So that the angel of death will then walk over his future grave. I heard them and painted a picture with mourning curls and a forehead bathed in moonlight. As eerily beautiful as it sometimes swells in the swimming brain. In his hand I saw the level rod measuring the position of the bed with a gentle stroke. So far the head - so far the foot - down!

Funeral Service - St Gallen

Spilled and forgotten! I shuddered, but I spoke to the horror mockery, I held the picture captive in Reime's net. And outrageously I dared to reach for a laurel leaf from the crown of death. Oh, many an hour I think about it now, I feel my blood creep so weak and faltering. A face looks at me from the mirror - I don't like to compare it.

When I first found you in the graveyard, roaming thoughtfully around the monuments, dragging the black staff in your hand along the hills. You lifted your eyes, so sharp and close, a slight shudder suddenly embarrassed me. Oh well, well the angel of death has walked over my grave! We have walked hand in hand through misery and joy, from hiking we both now rest over the quiet land.

All around the valleys are sloping, the air is already darkening, only two larks climb into the scent, dreaming. Come here and let them whiz, it'll be bedtime soon. That we don't get lost in this loneliness. O further, quiet peace! So deep in the sunset How tired we are of wandering - Is that death?