A chaste cold is gnawing at the trees everywhere. The branches rattle in the icy wind. Frozen meadows shine white and silent. The snow appears in harsh flakes and covers our path and stone. Woe to him who has no home! Blessed is the one who still has a home now! Woe to him who has surrendered to winter! Woe to him who keeps this winter cozy! Come away, come away from here, you fools! Not a single human being was able to appreciate the beautiful winter on this goddamn day.
The ice of the mountain lakes seems to be bursting and yet silence falls here. Instead of the mere silence in the treetops, winter paints us its most beautiful picture. But what is ultimately heaven is also hell. One almost fears the slow step in the empty grove. The stone rubbing against the other and the frozen branches just split in two. The panting of these men, the snorting, brazen stomping, what good is this babbling for us †Here is the devil's servant praying! â , the babbling and the raging here, it is of little ornament. Even the black raven is spooked as he makes one last lap. He feels an alliance with hell. The dark fellow chases madly and pleadingly through this world that has become white. He, he can hear his own heartbeat, the fir trees, spruces and pine trees are too frightening here. What is he up to? What leads up the dark company into Berg's dark grounds? What need does it have in this sudden night for the clown with a cross and woe?
[THE DARK COMPANY (whispers):]
My heart, I must save you
from sins at all surrounded,
where icy winds blow around me.
Innocence cries, separated from consolation:
This is the hell that burns me.
Heaven or hell ¶lle?
Heaven or hell?
Heaven! Hall! Heaven! Hall! Heaven! Hell!
Heaven?
Heaven?
Noâ¦
H-ö-l-l-e!

INVIA LE CORREZIONI