I Am Touched By Your Beautiful Anxiety

But You, Divine Poet, You Sang On Till The End As The Swarm Of Rejected Maenads Attacked You, Shrieking, You Overpowered Their Noise With Harmony, And From Pure Destruction Arose Your Transfigured Song.

Und Dastotsein Ist Mu« Hsam Und Voller Nachholn, Dass Man Allm A« Hlich Ein Wenig Ewigkeit Spu« Rt. And Being Dead Is Hard Work And Full Of Retrieval Before One Can Gradually Feel A Trace Of Eternity.

Perhaps Everything Terrible Is In Its Deepest Being Something Helpless That Wants Help From Us.

Death Is The Side Of Life Which Is Turned Away From Us.

Be Ahead Of All Parting, As Though It Already Were Behind You.