Urban soiled, atomic power is rising and devastating the earth.
Wrath and rage between soil and sky temperatures in chaos,
irresistible spate will come.

Later generations are going to read about our time,
they wouldn´t be pleased about the rest that we leave behind us.

They mourn! Suffering diseases! They cry! And they die!

The dust and the ashes of former times
cover our souls and hold on to us.
With stony wings into our war
and to the stars or to another place to live.

But since this harmony still contains cruel flaws,
forlornness and alienation of existence. This advice is
considered of little value by gnostics.

Look!
Clouds are calling again, a promise of mortality
the sign of myself is carved, on a tomb in the netherworld.
One step behind this line, enter and see that the risen realm has fallen.