To Oblivion...

Look—these are the remnants of ashes,
and here a channel for rivers of blood,
and visions that whisper of the phantoms of oblivion,
and a path to the deserts of nothingness.
So let us walk on—is there, beyond that life,
anything but a phantom above the bier of the dream?
Chant! How sweet are the melodies of oblivion,
rising along the borders of the stars.

★

Thus we go on, and within us a flame
of life, and the fancies of youth;
of all the hopes of life we gained
nothing, nor did we win any wish.
We have left in the world an epic
that the tragedies will sing for ages—
tragedies which, had they withered in my heart,
would leave it, after the tragedies, more barren still.

★

Hasten over my tears, and let us walk
over the heaps of perishing eyes;
how often have my tears soothed a yearning
and wounds in far-off evenings.
Memories—ah, how they torment
my burning heart and my withering soul;
they have let down a weary, aching eyelid
over scorched and bleeding eyes.