’Requiem for a Dream’

by M. N. G. Einstein∗

24. Juli, 2014

Un part de suite ’Le Chevalier Noir’, un idée dans ’Les fleurs du mal’de Charles Baudelaire.

In remeberence of E. A. Poe and ’The Raven’.

∗Any usage is only allowed with my full name and my written agreement. The pdf is free to/for share!

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Requiem for a Dream -

To understand the onomatopoesie better, follow this link:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5Kwf_nNmGI

To understand the context better, follow this link:https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_American_Review:_A_Whig_Journal_of_Politics,_Literature,_Art,_and_

Science/Volume_01/February_1845/The_Raven

Requiem for a Dream

Ahoohooho-dt-dt-daaa-twing-ohoohooho-dadada-dt-dt-dt . . .

Slow and weak, the violins started to sound,in the matter of bondage, which is to bound,the echoes leapt from rock to rock, from hall to hall,through the darkness, through the valleys of our fall,

. . . didi-didi-diii-iii-daaa-twang-twiiing-twiiiing-viiiing . . .

where death is peace, a sweet and joyful relieve,where sadness and heartache, is just a silly believe,where the burden of life is nothing more,then a stupid fantasy that light has bore.

. . . twiiing-viiiing-dt-dt-dt-ving-viing-ving-ving-viing-ving . . .

In thunderstorm horrorness, shadows lie in the world each day,so very dark, so very sick, that there is no light for them to slay,in pumpernickel thickness, sorrows creep through veins and minds,so very black, so very slick, that graves grow with all their kinds.

. . . ving-viing-viing-väng-väng-väng-väng-väng-ving . . .

Darker, darker chant the mighty blackness lay,no shining, no glimmer brought to here or they,Dreader, dreader hoot the nasty heartless present,no warmth, no hope for any comfort is ever sent.

. . . viing-viing-väng-väng-väng-väng-väng-dt-dt-dt . . .

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. . . viing-viing-väng-väng-väng-väng-väng-dt-dt-dt . . .

Like ghosts, the hours are dripping over the face of the clock,while for all the awful misery, there is neither a key or a lock,like ghuls, the days are drizzling over the straight arrow of time,keeping a twilightblanket, from bitter winter to no friendly clime.

. . . trum-dt-trum-dt-vivi-viviiing-vivi-viviviviiiing-viviving . . .

The clinking frost awakens the drums of yoke,rising from the pint of doom, like dirty smoke,arriving in the terrordarkness to the violins, only to bind them,to create a marching song for souls, for strings, for all of them.

. . . viviving-viviviviiiing-viviiing-vivi-viviviviiiing-viviiing . . .

So the tune, the Requiem for a dream, slowly starts,beginning to pierce the minds, to stab even the hearts,to which the army of hollow men so gladly march,forward, forward over bridge, field and every arch!

. . . vivi-viviving-vivi-viviving-viviviviiiing-vivi-vivii-vivivi . . .

Eastward, clad in sable, dark as the night,ready to fight the false promisses of the light,they pass forward, cold and trembling, in an endless stream,rank upon rank, so silent, entfolding the Requiem for a dream,

. . . vevevi-vevevi-viviving-veveving-viviveving-veveving . . .

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. . . vevevi-vevevi-viviving-veveving-viviveving-veveving . . .

Westward, ordered like shadows, into greater shadows,the host swiftly moves through all the cursed meadows,visible against the luminous pavement of the wan roads and walls,just as they would follow, beyond the range of hearing, the Calls!

. . . vevevi-veveving-ving-viing-viii-iii-ing-ving-ving-väng . . .

Southward, the old wound is throbbing with pain,as the army of hollow men, marches over the plain,ahead of them, a shrill cry is always to hear,filled with insanity, that is frightfully to fear,

. . . väng-ving-ving-viing-viing-viviving-viviving-viviviving . . .

mingeld with the highest voices as of butchered squeaks,and the neighing of horses with rage overpiercing peaks,that even the holdings of the hands, upon oneselfs ears,is still not enough, to protect one, from the striking fears!

. . . veveving-viviviving-trum-veveving-viviviving-trum-viving . . .

Northward, where the darkest day lie,and people neither fear war, nor to dy,there came across the valleys, a flare with a crack of thunder,as the host of hollow men, already had came them to plunder;

. . . trum-tam-dada-dada-dwang-trum-dada-dada-dwang . . .

the great crevice of doom slowly spread through the shires,the earth groaned under the flammes, with its blackest fires,lightning up the lights with all its handsome lies,which soon fled hurry, like the south wind flies!

. . . drum-dada-dada-dwang-dada-dada-dada-dada-dwang . . .

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. . . drum-dada-dada-dwang-dada-dada-dada-dada-dwang . . .

Over the ground the darkness creeps now, blacker than the dark night,intoxicating all that is, each step, from the pale sun to the moonlight,poisoning every breath we take, every beat the hearts fight to make,breaking time, erasing space, until there is nothing else ever to take!

. . . drum-tam-tam-dwang-dada-dada-trum-dada-dada-dwang . . .

Beneath the thunder another blackness could be seen whirling forward,it was like a great shadow, neither from the host nor from the vanguard,before it seem to go power and terror,while being filled with terrible horror,

. . . dam-dada-dada-dwing-damm-dada-dada-drum-dada-dwang . . .

the shadows roared up to greet and wreathed about it in anticipation,black shadows swirled in the black air as the most wicked incantation,growing louder and louder, the drum beats rolled continusly,whiping up the hollow men, who crowded away mysteriosly,

. . . damm-dada-dada-dwing-drum-dada-dada-dam-dada-dwang . . .

as if they themselfes were afraid of the swallowing mark,at the same time, the army were carrying its deathly spark,which upon a wind of war is set to start the ruinous storm,as fog, crawling over the land like the most wicked worm.

. . . dardar-trum-sosch-dada-ahaaaa-da-da-dam-ahaaaa . . .

So the banner of the hollow men moves forward from far,the very blanket consumes the hearts, but fuels the war,hundreds and hundreds more, were pouring over the ground,creating the darkest tide flowing with a foulthjousting sound.

. . . da-da-dam-damm-ahaaaa-da-da-da-ahaaaa-da-dam-trum . . .

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. . . da-da-dam-damm-ahaaaa-da-da-da-ahaaaa-da-dam-trum . . .

As swiftly as swirling waters, when a sluice is lifted,the darkness with its band of brothers so very gifted,floods the countries like a cavalry of furrywaves,to feed the pools and mires, with shadowslaves.

. . . sosch-dada-dada-da-da-dam-daa-da-da-dam-dada-dada-da . . .

Welling through the consumed lies of the world,cutting through the layers of old with their sword,not fair, not raidant as the cunning invented fireside−tale,of a promised future by the candles, lit up in every vale.

. . . dada-da-da-dam-dada-da-da-dam-dada-trum-dardar-damm . . .

Grim the pale fume, grown to a vast menace of despair,starting the battle, which it took to every city for its fair,setting the souls under the device of its cruel malice on fire,as the smoke rose curled, with blue sprarks, in twisted wire.

. . . da-dada-dam-dada-da-da-dam-dada-dam-dada-dardardam! . . .

From the towers, forks of black flames sprung into the clouds above,from the citadels, sparks of black inflamations rose like wings of a dove,while the host of hollow men was shouting and cheering,to the Requiem for a dream, that now, yelled so jeering.

. . . sosch-vii-iii-ing-väng-drum-vii-iii-ing-dadum-dadadum . . .

Under the wings of the twilight moving around,the shadows of death fell dark upon the ground,grown in blank power and hatred with the poisonous arrow of deafeat,the icy touch, colder than iron, layed falling over the vales like a sheat.

. . . veveving-sosch-veveving-dwiiing-twing-dimmm-dardardum . . .

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. . . veveving-sosch-veveving-dwiiing-twing-dimmm-dardardum . . .

In an insatiable blackness, desire lie in the world since the first day,so very consuming, so very fuming, spoiling each path, each way,in a hideous mountainlust, weltschmerz shatters souls and great shields,so very ruling, so very dooming, splashing its elegy over all the fields!

. . . twing-viviving-twing-dam-da-da-dam-dada-damm-dada-dwing . . .

Nightier, nightier yammer the immensely courageless baymyriads,no hope, no shape on the sea, vale or on top of the mountainheads,gloomier, gloomier shout the unbearable dead silence,no happines, no sillines in the future or in the presence!

. . . trum-damm-dam-da-da-dam-twing-dada-damm-dada . . .

The night is end and timeless, moment after moment falling dead,adding up to no passing hour, bringing no change, to their head,full of sorrow, until death comes glad,leaving the world in pitch darkness bad,

. . . ahaa-aahaa-ahaa-aahaa-dam-da-da-dam-dada-damm-dada . . .

with a fallen light that illuminates nothing,as a noisome exhalation of decay leering,in the hollow of the empty world, paler than the moon ailing,kindling the faint sickening forms, of an uneasy dream calling.

. . . trum-dada-da-da-dam-tschisch-da-da-dam-dada-damm-tschisch . . .

No time will ever come where the soul will not grief or aching to breath,no time will be, where the heart is stolen by a thief or struggle beneath,so full of wickedness, so full of lurking dangers,so full of darkness, so full of character changers.

. . . da-dt-da-da-dam-da-da-dam-dada-ahaaa-tschisch-damm-dada . . .

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. . . da-dt-da-da-dam-da-da-dam-dada-ahaaa-tschisch-damm-dada . . .

Uneasy the hostile stream,to the Reqiuem for a dream,fearing the silence and blackness in bone and marrow,while the hollow men are brought into their barrow.

. . . ahaa-aahaa-ahaa-aahaa-dam-da-da-dam-dada-damm-dada-damm!

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