In many a cool lake
Even the time of the dead stands still,
Because it simply doesn't pass,
Because it doesn't want to pass.
That's why they call up,
In the hope that you stay
And give them a few hours,
All eternity drives away.
And they call, they call, they call all the time,
Yes, they whisper, they whisper, they whisper all the time...
Sleep, little child, sleep on the bottom,
Dive into the dark depths,
Descend into our mouth of hell.
Eat, little child , eat sweet mud,
You have to eat well, well,
Your bridegroom is waiting downstairs.
Drink, little child, open your mouth,
Breathe lazy , rotten water,
Say farewell to the familiar world.
Fall, little angel, the time is ripe,
Your feathers must be stiff,
Your little wings stiff with cold.< br/>I am old, withered and weak,
Deformed, lived empty.
Stay here a little longer,
Even if fear weaves around your heart.
Look deeper into the mirror ,
Put your foot on this stone,
Come closer, little one, closer,
Just one step and you are mine.
And they whisper, they whisper, they whisper all the time,
What they want, they want, what they want, that's you,
And the screams, the screams, they flutter through the forest,
Because in the water, in the water, in the water it is cold...
Sleep, little child, sleep on the bottom,
Your father is herding sheep
Here with us in the dark mouth of hell.
Fang , little child, catch your dream,
Your mother shakes beneath you
At the old, old skull tree.
Sink, sink as light as a feather,
Into the pond's moist earth,
So that the shine of your eyes may be a consolation to us.
Wander, you eyes, roam around
Like birds in the summer wind,
Now you still shine brightly like gold,
But soon you are cloudy and blind.
In many a cool lake
There is a whole labyrinth,
No birds fly in it,
No wind blows in it Summer wind.
The dead are stretching in it
For the exit, for the light,
That far up on the border
The past breaks apart.
Their screams, the Screams, they flutter through the forest,
Because in the water, in the water, in the water it is cold...
Die, little child, die at the bottom,
Clouds are spinning in the sky
/>Your shadows around the earth.
Die, little child, the time is ripe,
Your hands must be rigid,
Your little fingers stiff with cold.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS