That while whose length outlasts time follows the synchronisation of itself. Every nourishing thing, on the trail of the new, sinks into the hope of becoming. Anger's expression submits to that dying, the end's way becomes visible. Detaching itself from the old, unconditionally turning away. Encountering without any justification, we take giving blandly in enveloping hand, writhing in the chest's pain. The end only fuels the beginning, realised in the lament's call. That step, subject to the pretence, imagines itself to be a failure in the image of the new, eternally inferior in the unifying alone
English 
German