Feel God even is for eight minutes,
master and lord of lives and destinies:
between my fingers having the life or death
of passengers entrusted to my care.
Alone in cockpit of Airbus 320,
I don´t unlock the door to enjoy the show
all by myself in this bright spring morning
where its rebirth enhances the contrast
to what is soon to come in those snowy mountains
to us approaching with sure and slow pace
... more and more, I an angel of death
to the encounter flying with my wings;
Germanic wings attracted to the impossible
towards a world of mechanical perfection
of orderly and accurate discipline that works
with the beauty and coldness of the engines,
with the beauty and coldness in those cliffs
... where the air is purer to the super-man
—his proper abode is in the peaks—
o Zarathustra! admired Zarathustra
which thus spoke through Nietzsche in the book:
to stay away from mob and the masses
as is the passage today I lead to doom.
The number does not matter,
the weak will never count
in front of the will of the great man
as in the mythical Germany of the Führer
which was also based on the sacrifice
of millions of people in his sake.
Desist miscreants to bang the cabin door,
let me enjoy these moments so special:
the privilege of a supreme will
in company of the devil and of death
—as in the genial engraving of Durero—
along the road that leads towards the chasm.
Yes the devil, he is my co-pilot
forever by my side since I was young,
putting in me this uncontrolled passion
for flying to join him as an angel
in the fatal plunge from the heights
while suggesting to me those weird ideas
of holocaust so much exciting me
sacrificing the herds to the dammed name
exhilarating in a huge bath of blood
and then sinking again into depression.
I took this decision for if they discover
what has been diagnosed of my mind,
for sure they would cut my wings
and I could never for rest of days to come
return to this beautiful skies and to these clouds
and of course that means it will be hell:
the anodyne of everyday life
relegated to bureaucratic jobs,
dropped and finally retired,
stuck on Earth plunged among the mass.
As Mephisto had proposed to me
I have to sign the pact with blood,
not only mine, also of innocents;
he has promised to give me my own wings:
those of a world-renowned reputation
so that I shall have eternal youth
never dying in the mouths of men;
in return he will take care of my soul
to accompany him to the abyss in the fall.
I push the button in the control panel
that initiates the gradual descent.
I conduct them to the sacrificial death
imperative in order to fly free
and in homage to this my strange ego;
after all what cost is to the orb
such common people, returning from vacation
or going to a college in exchange
where they teach merely trifles
and shit they say it is democracy.
Do they know of so many subtleties
that assault in a tormented soul
craving the ideal, searching the impossible
forever seeked by the great Germania:
that of our symphonic music,
of our idealistic philosophy,
of forceful and solid science,
the heroism of the teutonic knight...
As a child I always admired those pilots
who crashed on the enemies their planes;
I wanted to emulate —now I finally will do it—
the heroism of those kamikazes,
"divine wind", encourages the word;
"Gottlicher Wind" in unsere deutsche Sprache.
No, I will not answer impertinences
from radar towers that are requiring me.
The "blond beast" we carry in genes
of Aryan race, that of the ancient Greeks,
not these from now -are all half Turks-
and other defiled Mediterraneans
plus those Moors, Americans, Arabs...
(of all I have a sample among the passage)
and the Jews, surely there are a few
for they seem an inevitable plague.
All those screams sound merely as murmur,
come from the crew outside who begs to me;
I barely hear all the imprecations
as I have in my earphones some Wagner's music
as it is the "Ride of Valkyries"
the right background to match this trance.
You are sheep, you are flock, you are herd,
merely servers, only slaves
that a pharaoh needs in the hecatomb
to die but dying being courted
and keep an eye on my eternal sleep
inside the tomb that are those pyramids
of such silent and magnificent mountains,
forever associated to my name
immortal now entering Olympus
of the Alps, to its legend attached
...
Signed -with blood-
master and lord of lives and destinies:
between my fingers having the life or death
of passengers entrusted to my care.
I don´t unlock the door to enjoy the show
all by myself in this bright spring morning
where its rebirth enhances the contrast
to what is soon to come in those snowy mountains
to us approaching with sure and slow pace
to the encounter flying with my wings;
Germanic wings attracted to the impossible
towards a world of mechanical perfection
of orderly and accurate discipline that works
with the beauty and coldness of the engines,
with the beauty and coldness in those cliffs
—his proper abode is in the peaks—
o Zarathustra! admired Zarathustra
which thus spoke through Nietzsche in the book:
to stay away from mob and the masses
as is the passage today I lead to doom.
the weak will never count
in front of the will of the great man
as in the mythical Germany of the Führer
which was also based on the sacrifice
of millions of people in his sake.
let me enjoy these moments so special:
the privilege of a supreme will
in company of the devil and of death
—as in the genial engraving of Durero—
along the road that leads towards the chasm.
forever by my side since I was young,
putting in me this uncontrolled passion
for flying to join him as an angel
in the fatal plunge from the heights
while suggesting to me those weird ideas
of holocaust so much exciting me
sacrificing the herds to the dammed name
exhilarating in a huge bath of blood
and then sinking again into depression.
what has been diagnosed of my mind,
for sure they would cut my wings
and I could never for rest of days to come
return to this beautiful skies and to these clouds
and of course that means it will be hell:
the anodyne of everyday life
relegated to bureaucratic jobs,
dropped and finally retired,
stuck on Earth plunged among the mass.
I have to sign the pact with blood,
not only mine, also of innocents;
he has promised to give me my own wings:
those of a world-renowned reputation
so that I shall have eternal youth
never dying in the mouths of men;
in return he will take care of my soul
to accompany him to the abyss in the fall.
that initiates the gradual descent.
imperative in order to fly free
and in homage to this my strange ego;
after all what cost is to the orb
such common people, returning from vacation
or going to a college in exchange
where they teach merely trifles
and shit they say it is democracy.
that assault in a tormented soul
craving the ideal, searching the impossible
forever seeked by the great Germania:
that of our symphonic music,
of our idealistic philosophy,
of forceful and solid science,
the heroism of the teutonic knight...
who crashed on the enemies their planes;
I wanted to emulate —now I finally will do it—
the heroism of those kamikazes,
"divine wind", encourages the word;
"Gottlicher Wind" in unsere deutsche Sprache.
from radar towers that are requiring me.
of Aryan race, that of the ancient Greeks,
not these from now -are all half Turks-
and other defiled Mediterraneans
plus those Moors, Americans, Arabs...
(of all I have a sample among the passage)
and the Jews, surely there are a few
for they seem an inevitable plague.
come from the crew outside who begs to me;
I barely hear all the imprecations
as I have in my earphones some Wagner's music
as it is the "Ride of Valkyries"
the right background to match this trance.
merely servers, only slaves
that a pharaoh needs in the hecatomb
to die but dying being courted
and keep an eye on my eternal sleep
inside the tomb that are those pyramids
of such silent and magnificent mountains,
forever associated to my name
immortal now entering Olympus
of the Alps, to its legend attached
...
Signed -with blood-
Andreas Gunter Lubitz.
© albertotrocóniz / 15
Texto: de “POEMAS DE LA SOMBRA”
Imagen: “Ritter, Tod und Teufel”
de Alberto Durero (1513)
en “MUSEO”
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