Page 100 - Demo

The great shifts in your life,stones being moved around. Death without hopeor resurrection without relief. Look at the pianist in tails in his hall of rousing marbleas he seats himself behind the instrument's black wing, how he bows his head slowly as if in prayer, the hands are raised, the fingers movelike the necks of swans, a conjuringuntil the notes break out, a maestosofills the vaulted roof with wordsthat are not those of humans, darkly shining, strict and silent words, triumphant, mysterious words, laughter from a star, song from a god with lips of crystal and you will go out and weep a long while for there is still much for you to love. Or when you hear machine guns in the burning cityon the day of demonswhen the street battles are over and the last lives are being blown outagainst cellar walls with hand grenades%u2014like this%u2014and this%u2014and this. That's enoughand you can hide your face under a boulder. Cover yourself with stone. De store bevegelser i ditt liv, stener som flyttes om. D%u00f8d uten h%u00e5peller oppstandelse uten tr%u00f8st.Se den kjolekledde pianist i sin sal av hissende marmorn%u00e5r han setter seg ned bak flyglets m%u00f8rke vingehvordan han b%u00f8yer hodet langsomt som i b%u00f8nn, hendene l%u00f8ftes, fingrene beveger seg som svaners nakker, en besvergelsetil tonen bryter ut, et maestosofyller hvelvene med ordsom ikke er av mennesket, m%u00f8rkt lysende, strenge og tause ord, seierrike, hemmelighetsfulle ord, latter fra en stjerne, sang fra en gud med leber av krystallog du skal g%u00e5 ut og gr%u00e5te lenge for du har enda meget du skal elske. Eller n%u00e5r du h%u00f8rer maskingev%u00e6rene i den brennenede storbyenp%u00e5 demonenes dagn%u00e5r gatekampene er forbi og de siste liv bl%u00e5ses ut mot kjellerveggene med h%u00e5ndgranater%u2014slik%u2014og slik%u2014og slik. Det er nokog du kan gjemme ditt ansikt under en helle. Dekke over deg med sten.