I                  

Their voice rapped the portals
and from the dim smoke
a white pigeon sprung
and followed the trail downwards

The crests of the churches,
sharp shelters for the wounded
that come from above
and from below

Are the firmaments raining fire?
For my eyes have filled with tears of black
and my soul's purified

Is this your delivering message?
For lakes, mountains,
beasts and humans are waiting,
and we shall always do

                  II

Will the Theatre of Pain
be utterly empty one day?

We are actors that do not dare
to read the elder lines
Nomads amidst the sandstorm
in our sinful minds

Shall I drink my animal's blood?
For my people's thirsty for salvation
in this deserted land
and I only saw once a roaming scrap
from your royal garments

Faith is hanging from a thread
And only in the night-praying hours
the poetry's lines true shine

Do not be the actor
that turns his back
on the crowd's clapping

                 III

Everything is appointed
the prophets have spoken

Will, you always love
those who betray?
Spreading words of hope
to the humble with burned faces

The needy have already
flooded the empty rivers
and Pharaoh's wrath is not well locked

I know not how many
are living up there
but I do know how many
are building the realm of Hades

The flame shall kneel before you
and oceans will be divided into two
Once the ominous words
are heard inside your Temple again