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VERSES IN VAIN
ETUDE ABOUT DEATH IN E MINOR
NARRATION AND DRAMA IN II ACTS
I ACT
First reflection,
“el sueño de la razón produce monstruos” (Francisco José de Goya)
<< In the bottom the silence reemerges,
An eye-catching brightness hurls between the watchtower
Someone pronounces a few senseless words and begins the suffering of the monotonous dawn …
The wind bangs the door, someone suffers and someone estimates the profits
Nobody seems to import it
The voice bites the darkness and hope:
-He dies
It continues listened this cursed noise being:
-The dusk cries, and the humble teat of my haunt rains softly. Remember it my son, it’s important …
-I had lost in this damned black abyss.
I had consumed all my existence in vain,
the revenge of the old spirit ancient will never arrive
and this dawn will leave only rottenness.
In our imperishable affliction.
Now blossoming the mantle of winter and death
Doomed In The Black Abyss
He talks
Doomed in the black abyss
and all my existence in vain…
Will never arrive the revenge from the ancestral old spirit
The dawn leaves pieces of rottenness
In the everlasting misery
Lost in the black abyss
and all my existence in vain …
the revenge of the old ancient spirit will never arrive
The dawn leaves pieces of rottenness
in the everlasting misery
I know the meaning
(the rain still remain)
Through the insane sap
extends the thought and the death
And I feel the frost melancholy of the wind
We walk towards the cold,
We observed the lost passing
And the eternal pain of dusks…
I´m sorry, I don´t try to say anything
The unravelled majesty
Mysticism in the dead forest
The pain reflected in the eternal river of suffering
We can verify it,
the sadness drew up its footpaths
towards the abyss
towards some unknown place
Nobody can save me
I have exhausted the fragility that surrounded my steps
But I had not deciphered the masterful enigma.
The spirit wolf rambles solitary at the mountains
During a moment I watched fixedly in this saddened sea
And I underwent the fear of the existence
The melodies sounds confuse
in the ethereal infinity of wind
And the land is drained in my hands
I lost the hope in the days
while a milliard of twilights speak
The pain, the measurement of the existence
breaks every day eternal hedonism
the inert artifice
of the hope
senseless hangman, willow of the rot
Here is the landscape
here is the suffering
When the bitter morning comes,
forged in fire and evil arts,
nothing yet will make sense,
when the bitter morning comes,
like in my dreams,
like vain in verse …
Here is the landscape
here is the suffering
I don´t want that understand anything
The bitter farewell of the rain
collects the meaning of my life and of my death
wouldn’t understand an agony
provoked by so real dreams
wouldn’t decipher illusions
neither in flights nor patronages ….
like verses in vain ….
wouldn’t see that the life is false,
neither the ochre colour of the Sun …
If for an alone moment you were crossing the opium door
would come to the threshold of the suffering, but not ….
-I know well about I´m talking, I had come to say goodbye
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<<Now the forest talks to him>>
And all my existence in vain
This one is the half-light in which you have died,
from the abyss you constructed the everlasting penury
You that always…
you were regretting about read credit agonizing of the maple
on the deprived fog
Close to this rotten oak the temple is watched to the suffering
The moribund lines fall apart in your hands
on water the ancient shade is reflected
and in the depth of the forest the existence hides itself
On the dawn the hills of the suffering flow
and your steps sound emptiness
You listen the music of the rot,
the brooks of the existence are poisoned
the melancholy transition of the crops is observed from this hill,
there is listened the existence and the vagueness of life
And there remains the feeling of the disenchantment,
spirit of the pain buried in discouragement
the rain dies in the outside,
sound of this loneliness…
know where these thoughts lead,
cross the paths of the unknown
but the infinity does not serve as refuge
Agonizing ocean of the spirituality,
in the deepest of the infinity
You observe the beauty of the gravely injured cedar,
the immense weight of the death,
valley of the ruin
and materializes the banality of the human thought
The dreams of the past are diluted
in the ashes bloodstained of a solitary oak
You come to this land across the suffering
close to the high trees of the forgotten mountain
The lineage of the dismembered trees makes its way
and searches in the forest’s doubt
The bitter farewell of the rain
The blind sadness in the lost path
The cold dead age assembles
the meaning of my life and of my death
The lineage of the dismembered trees makes its way
and searches in the forest’s doubt
Agonizing voice of the forgotten paradise
Former stagnant dreams blind
Magician of the secret places
crazy hollow and absence
<<Any thought guides to the abyss>>
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<<He thinks about the stagnant water in the abyss>>
There will never come the revenge of the old spirit,
the distress has been dragged
to the deep dream of the melancholy cypress
It is the ancient uncertainty,
Clear darkness in the atavistic valley of life
The words, which in the stony threshold
of the ominous river find future,
disgust me
She does not look at us and should not make it
We appear with the lushness
of a tree that has not existed
And we think about deserving it
In that blinker paradise
our dreams rotted
The worn and indolent loneliness
is the only that I still have,
The wind in the dark angles of the tower
Sleepwalker will whistle in the thick mist
and the real form of the solstice
will take me sweetly to the last threshold
I invoke you god Pan
Kill them all
Spectral forms in the obstinate light of the river
where the impertinent oak of the carelessness grows
The moor in which angels distil poison
where without realizing the fools
will drown with the pride dulled in the dusty
signs of the lost experience
It is the septic tank
of the soul
the saddest of all the old songs
But my clothes rot and rot my body
“The suffering is inevitable my son”
There will never come the revenge of the old spirit,
the distress has been dragged
to the deep dream of the melancholy cypress
I see the blazes of a burnt paradise
We do not have future
My last wills are the sea, the forest
the land in which we forge the hope
by that tacit agreement
We were young but now my serenity rots
and rots all that that some day made to us free
<<Maybe something of beautiful might be listened in this melancholy, something that will not happen again. We know that it is like that>>
-High are the trees, from the thick immortal forest
High are the trees …
…and deep[we can listen the void] the abyss
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II ACT
Second reflection,
" Wherever I look I don´t see another thing that reminiscences of death "(Ovidio)
The Dawn Will Leave Pieces Of Rottenness
<<He feels the abyss>>
The dawn will leave pieces of rottenness
Observant of pain,
pain of dead
I remain grasped to the springs of sadness
In the limits I still (observe) the distressed silhouette
that one that we were disdaining of young
but today is October in the unstable cornice
of the precipice I appear to the doubt bitterness
Dazzled in the memory of the eternities
speaker in the cold temple of the uneasiness
The silence- the stranger thinks –
Recognize the cold and the uncertain nature of firmament
And he takes root in the depths of the soul
as our forbears did in the irresolute way
towards the immortal numens
I lie defeated
The paradise escaped from my hands
slipped sorrowfully
between the inert fingers of my agony
The tired memory of the eternities fatigues me
I dazzle myself, get drunk of reasons already buried
in the cemetery of the mistakes
narrow is the cell of my isolation in the shady night
What is for my privilege of the lie
in the indifferent throne of the mistakes
A minuscule authority in the world
This night I will not reconcile
the eternal dream of the old bards
dirty bird of evil omen flies over me
and flies over the plateau of the disenchantment
in the strange place of death
Write in pain, degenerates,
in the wreckage of the destiny
searches obstinate in the flow of the horizons
Withered orchids of the spring
muck of winter
Gabble of dry leaves
in the lair of the fox
Everything makes presage the future thing
-Everlasting
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he says farewell
and this is the melody of despondency
In the everlasting misery
the portrait of the desperation has fused
in the fire of the self inspection
I sleep in the limit of the absolute thing, lethargic
An inert moment
Paralysed in the precipice
Abyssed and laconic
spectres of the misery
expectant in the night of the times
penetrate in the most eternal of the human thing
I feel repugnance
Not even an observation of clarity has out unharmed
of this putrid consternation
I look to the winter and I see the only abyss
and recognize my dreams,
bitter paths of death,
lost now in the breaker
indifference of life
We look at the land
But only they are looked, deserted
in the crepuscular hour
Do not matter
The sleepy nature dies hung
discreet in the intimacy of the time
Only during an instant I will embrace eagerly her destiny
Obscure whim of the fortune
I recognize the cold and the uncertain nature of the firmament
the horizon had craved suffering in my hands
and I feel the terrible weight of the anguish
in each of these hills
i feel sell, abandoned
in my hands I see to be dying the eternal fountain of hope
and the bitter torrent of the thought
lost in the black abyss
Patience
The life resounds sadly
in the chance moor of the remorses
and her aspect is that of all the wasted dialogues
in the holes of the lost ages
Immersed in the sea of the confused circumstances
I feel the fret of the stiff fingers of the hypocrisy
there has unleashed the impure scorn of the damned world
on the human weakness
I watch the hope but under the enormous weight of the fatality
the disenchantment emerges
I have the sensation of having lost something
when nothing should have that to there lose
The fallacious feeling of farewell
get tragic dyes
in this saddened alcove
unfathomable denseness
cold temple of the old times
disappear the end of all meaning
inside me
the ocean witness of silence
vanity in verse
I am not worth anything
I am lost in the imperishable black abyss
of the hopelessness
All my dreams were false
in the abyss is based the rottenness
and the everlasting misery
<<The last sigh in the forest of the oblivion
breaks the immortal silence>>
-I have lost in this damned black abyss.
I have consumed all my existence in vain,
the revenge of the old spirit will never arrive
and this dawn will leave only rottenness
in our imperishable affliction.
- Remember it my son, it’s important …
<<The way continues pleasantly,
The wind still banging the door and the
silence is listened Nobody seems to matter…>>
Concept, annotations and lyric context by J.L Montáns
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released September 1, 2007