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The germ in my hope is dead.
My longing passes into nothing and I coldly entwine myself.
With the soft severity of a corpses hand bones I sieze myself,
mercilessly, without any possible way back,
or any delay for my cry to the endless black night
The germ in my hope is dead.    My longing passes into nothing and I coldly entwine myself.    With the soft severity of a corpses hand bones I sieze myself,    mercilessly, without any possible way back,    or any delay for my cry to the endless black night