• Richard Müller

    traduction en anglais

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Baroque

Curled up girls sleep nude,
at Tycho de Brahe's grave.
A female saint, awakened from stone,
raises the monstrance of the moon.
 
There's only one such brilliance,
from here to far out of sight...
And from it, far and wide,
spills, in great streams, Baroque.
 
Angels, reveal your faces!
For the blind harmonica-players,
that I've waited for and didn't miss,
each one of you is profoundly familiar.
 
If you're so profoundly familiar,
come and sing with us.
Us down here, and you so high up,
about how powerful Baroque is.
 
Saddle the horses and forth!
Let's chase away the evil 'daymare',
that consumed our century.
The foaming horses will fly out.
 
At this nigh of bone-breaking,
of crafty faithlessness.
Strike the beast down far below,
in such a way as only Baroque can.
 
Today is today, but what about tomorrow?
Will the magic miter remain here?
Into whose lap will
the pure-blood of Saint Martin put his head?
 
Earth that doesn't have its own heaven,
has lost everything - even itself.
It overgrows with pasture, just to please the eye...
Why are you so distant,
feathered Baroque?
 
Earth that doesn't have its own heaven,
has lost everything - even itself.
It overgrows with pasture, just to please the eye...
Why are you so distant, Baroque?
 
Earth that doesn't have its own heaven,
has lost everything - even itself.
It overgrows with pasture, just to please the eye...
Why are you so distant, Baroque?
 
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Baroko

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