On the edge of light and darkness,
Dreams break through the gloom.
Where the cries of seagulls drown in the dense gloom.
The shadows on the stones are their strange secret.
Ash stars are painted with thick brushstrokes.
They cut the eye like a blade in the hand.
Each wave blurs the boundaries.
The cry of the soul, crushed in haste.
Blood clings to the hands like an innocent
Here the murders sound louder than the earth,
And every rustle stabs at the nerves.
There's no end, no beginning, no light.
Only the imprint of a hand that seeks farewell.
The clenched knife is as cold as my fear.
The wind whispers: "You're not alone here."
I stand like a prisoner on empty shores,
Hoping the sea will scatter the remnants.
Every step is a confession of my emptiness.
How do I survive this? No one taught me.
A place where the light dies in the blood,
And pain oozes from every fold.
The blood on my hands won't disappear in the rain,
The evening, squeezing you to a scream.
Waiting for your eyes that see no reason,
And silence is the only thing that eats away at my soul.
The winds sway the bridges on the edge,
Where the sea hides the sins of others.
And the fog covers the footprints I've left behind.
But the wet sand keeps me from falling.
I stare at the footprints, disappearing into the mist,
And the sea can't hear me screaming softly.
All that's left is a look
in which the night has long seen no living thing.
But the blood that ran from my fingers to the sand.
A thick fog creeps over the land,
hiding the world in deadly dumbness.
Every step here is like a sharp edge,
And the air is poisoned with someone else's guilt.
The screams are gone,
Only ashes in my head and clammy fear.
A thin line runs down the stones
They've been waiting for me, these walls,
Every stone knew my face.
People? No. There are only figures that look like people,
Their eyes are the emptiness that breaks the shadows.
Somewhere in the depths, a silence rings out,
But it's not peace, it's a premonition of death.
You look around, but you see only the bottom,
Every minute is a black stream
Where the past tears at the living voices.
And there they are again, the grim faces,
Their gaze is lust, like a price to pay.
I step toward the water where the fog is dreaming me,
But instead of light it shrouds me in shadow.
With every breath I take, it gets worse,
The sand sticks to my feet, cuts like a knife.
The blood will always be deeper in this terrain.
In the midst of the storm, I found my inner peace....
here they are again, the grim faces,
But now I see their reflection.
In their gaze is no longer rage, but forgiveness,
And every stone knows I've stepped into the light.
I step into the water with hope in my heart.
The sea embraces me, and carries me further downstream.
