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Behind the Mask

de Lutomysl

Clean body
Covered with dirt clods,
Clear thought
Is a dying bird

When the knife is in the chest,
The gun is at the temple,
And there is no hand,
But it's not needed!

The choir of advisers
The stupid speech,
The grave is dug out
Why not lie down?

They hide away,
Filled with lies
They toss about,
Torn apart with claws

Fighting for the unrealizable
Covered with dust
Poured with blood
Sheeted with iron

Spirit knows no mercy
Would not yeld to heart
Breaks the chains
Soars a free bird above the earth!

I am alone here
I am no one here
I am redundant
The time has come

The roaring silence
The dead movement
The matter's been studied
The winter of humanity!

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