You Will Hear Thunder And Remember Me,

The Word Landed With A Stony Thud Onto My Still-beating Breast. Nevermind, I Was Prepared, I Will Manage With The Rest. I Have A Lot Of Work To Do Today; I Need To Slaughter Memory, Turn My Living Soul To Stone Then Teach Myself To Live Again. . . But How. The Hot Summer Rustles Like A Carnival Outside My Window; I Have Long Had This Premonition Of A Bright Day And A Deserted House.

And It Seemed To Me That There Were Fires Flying Till Dawn Without Number And I Never Found Out Things-those Strange Eyes Of His-what Colour? Everything Trembling And Singing And Were You My Enemy Or My Friend, Winter Was It Or Summer?

I Am Not One Of Those Who Left The Land To The Mercy Of Its Enemies. Their Flattery Leaves Me Cold, My Songs Are Not For Them To Praise.

If I Can't Have Love, If I Can't Find Peace, / Give Me A Bitter Glory.

It Was A Time When Only The Dead Smiled, Happy In Their Peace.