I cry out to the northern lights
but Heaven is quiet and the moon has set.
Distress and longing for God knows what
reach in vain into the darkness.
Do I need to sleep or wake up?
Let all the Earth explain to me
whether my thoughts are thoughts at all.
Do lonely people of every tongue
express their void with words of beauty?
Can you translate a silent scream?
It takes substantial pondering
to let the heart increase its pace.
Differently easy is despise and distrust,
love is again an epitomal loser
and now thy neighbour as thyself.
If fear and loathing cease their game,
if life itself will play its hand,
if every dream can be discerned,
if someone can find the essence of being,
will I ever reach the stars?