God damn the day I was born
and the night that forced me from the womb.
On that day—let there be darkness;
let it never have been created;
let it sink back into the void.
Let chaos overpower it;
let black clouds overwhelm it;
let the sun be plucked from its sky.
Let oblivion overshadow it;
let the other days disown it;
let the aeons swallow it up.
On that night—let no child be born,
no mother cry out with joy.
Let sorcerers wake the Serpent
to blast it with eternal blight.
Let its last stars be extinguished;
let it wait in terror for daylight;
let its dawn never arrive.
For it did not shut the womb’s doors
to shelter me from this sorrow.
Why couldn’t I have died
as they pulled me out of the dark?
Why were there knees to hold me,
breasts to keep me alive?
If only I had strangled or drowned
on my way to the bitter light.
Now I would be at rest,
I would be sound asleep,
with kings and lords of the earth
who lived in echoing halls,
with princes who hoarded silver
and filled their cellars with gold.
There the troubled are calm;
there the exhausted rest.
Rich and poor are alike there,
and the slave lies next to his master.
Why is there light for the wretched,
life for the bitter-hearted,
who long for death, who seek it
as if it were buried treasure,
who smile when they reach the graveyard
and laugh as their pit is dug.
For God has hidden my way
and put hedges across my path.
I sit and gnaw on my grief;
my groans pour out like water.
My worst fears have happened;
my nightmares have come to life.
Silence and peace have abandoned me,
and anguish camps in my heart.