Текст песни Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble of Shadows Day Of The Dead

Unexpected - suddenly - as if from nowhere they appear,
The monks are wearing fire-coloured gowns.
Their faces, friendly but determined, hidden behind lacquered masks,
Painted black and white, they're having the shape of over-dimensional skulls.

Quickly and nimbly they are moving forward, hopping dextrously,
Throwing their legs like ageless jesters so high up into the air.
Each of them is armed with a short, an even piece of wood,
Remarkably resembling ancient worn-out washing-boards.
Polished by the years of use, they brandish them like swords or sticks,
Ready to strike ritually - this is the Day Of The remaining Dead.

On this day we celebrate the expulsion or rebuke
Of the spirits which have unintendedly been dragged along.
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten,
Some have simply been ignored,
These remnants with a growing hunger
Must be exorcised, shall be removed.

This ritual always commences without warning, suddenly,
Therefore it cannot be assigned to a certain date or time.
It rather tends to inevitably follow a chain of events,
A special spiritual feature inherent in everyone of them.

Out of the sphere of influence, of the sphere of the days to be
The monks are approaching, spinning on their own axis as they dance and sing,
And hitting every person present so hard between the shoulder-blades
As everyone here is dragging fidget, invisible "appendages".

As if by chance, not expressly invited, we've assembled here today
Vehemently we are being hit and driven through the western gates,
Out of the monastery in the direction of the setting sun.
A necessary purifying ceremony for the fragile days to come...

On this day we celebrate the expulsion or rebuke
Of the spirits which have unintendedly been dragged along.
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten,
Some have simply been ignored,
These remnants with a growing hunger
Must be exorcised, shall be removed.