Cassandra's Song

Why do they all speak at once, like a storm in the night,
And no drink in this world can ever silence their plight?
Why does reason, so sharp, only feed hope’s deceit,
While judgments of men make the weak bow at its feet?

The vision may stay, though hope’s poisoned and weak,
A god’s gift, they say—but the price was too steep,
The favor of the eternal always comes with a fee:
Calamity for them, a doom far deeper for me.

What a burden to know, and never to show,
If my words find their hearts—blocked from flow,
Cold as ice, their reason gets blowzed.
My visions dissolve where their minds are closed.

So I watch the window frame the distant tide,
The ships like leaves where the gulls glide,
The smoke from fires drift and fade away,
And as I watch, the light decays to gray.

They wanted a seer, not a voice so clear
It cut through their lies like a spear.
No soft words, no flattery—just the weight
Of the truth they’d chain, but could not abate.

Why should I know when the end is fixed,
When all they’ll hear is the luck they’ve picked?
I’m locked away, called mad for the crime
Of saying their choices aren’t theirs to sign.

We can guide the lava’s burning stream,
But never halt the mountain’s scream.
We can ride the waves as they climb,
Yet never change the flood’s set time

I saw them all fall for the prize they desired,
Drowned in their hunt, by their hopes inspired.
They chased the golden Fleece, the gods had spun
Their ruin’s thread—yet I was the one

Who saw the pattern woven in every act,
The truth already there, no god could retract.
Not as a seer, but as the earth must know
The roots of the tree before it can grow.

Apollo dealt the sight, but not the grace,
A truth too heavy for my embrace.
Yet in the dark, his greed laid bare,
I found the light was always there. 

My brother’s words were honeyed, smooth, and bright,
His life dissolved like mist in morning light.
But I, who saw the path fate had set,
Made meaning from it—and live there yet.

(Summer 2025)

The Dragon Revives 

In the midst of nine worlds, its secret keeps, 

Surrounded by seas, where the cosmos sleeps. 

A dragon lies at the root of all, it seems, 

As twelve sounds resound in the realm of dreams. 

With every four beats, it stirs from its slumber, 

A timeless force that no mortal can encumber. 

In the heart of nine worlds, its power thrives, 

As twelve sounds dance, where the dragon revives. 

Credits: Text and Images by Tabea Hirzel 

Music Evolution by Benjamin Tissot via Bensound

Дни недели: нить традиции

Понедельник — после дела, 
Печь топится, зола бела. 
Начни, как хлеб меси, 
Чтоб неделя шла с красы. 

Вторник — Вeles куёт судьбу,
Молот бьёт — искра ввысь.
Не стой в стороне, счастлив будь,
Куй железо — не ленись!

Среда — сердца середина,
ложь от правды отделит. 
Тайны скрыты глубинно,
вода правду велит.

Четверг — гром гремит с утра, 
Перун едет на горах. 
Не ругайся — ветра кликнешь, 
молнию спровоцируешь. 

Пятница — прялка поёт, 
Мокошь нить судьбы плетёт. 
Красную ленту в косу, 
Чтоб удача как росу. 

Суббота — стол накрыт, 
Свечи, вино, хлеб лежит. 
Шесть дней трудился — отдохни,
Да с любимыми поговори. 

Воскресенье — солнце восходит, 
Тьму разгоняет с высоты. 
Не спеши, день светлый приходит, 
Как весна, полон новизны.  

(Март 2026 г.)

Descarga la traducción y explicaciones aquí. 

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en or Casting the Circle

/nin e.reʃ.ki.gal-me-en/

Chorus 1:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, I say,

The sister of Irkalla’s dark domain,

To whom the weary soldiers find their way,

And rest in peace, no longer wrought with pain.

Verse 1:

My beauty, vast beyond all words can tell,

My strength, a force that crushes skulls of foes,

Ascend my mountain, where true love doth dwell,

But dare not call me down, for wrath then shows.

Chorus 2:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, in might,

The sister to the Queen of Earthly sphere,

With power o’er the cosmos’ boundless light,

Sing praise to me, and let my wisdom steer.

Verse 2:

Below the void ‘twixt Kur and earthly ground,

He channeled seas primeval, life’s first breath,

Where flows of Dilmun’s rivers spread around,

Bringing both life and plague, the twin of death.

Chorus 3:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, I reign,

The sister of Kur’s sovereign, dark and deep,

I balance hearts with justice, true and plain,

In my embrace, the weary souls do sleep.

Verse 3:

My charm did win the ninety-four great Me,

From Enki’s hands, the elements of life,

Yet Irkalla’s depths remain a mystery,

Though Me I hold, I know not death’s cold strife.

Chorus 4:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, I stand,

The sister of the keeper of the dead,

I bring the souls to their eternal land,

Unite with me, and reign where none have fled.

Verse 4:

The source of all by Nergal’s seal is bound,

He who laid low the serpent’s deadly brood,

The ninth head severed, brought down to the ground,

Thus, justice in the darkest place accrued.

Chorus 5:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, sister of the Mother of the Snake,

She who bears the burden of hidden fate,

I who saved Enki's tree from flood’s intake,

And bring wisdom to the living’s gate.

Verse 5:

The vessel breaks by hands of wicked men,

Who slayed the bull of heaven in their pride,

Brought low by sky’s decree, to earth again,

Their lust for power crushed, their lives denied.

Chorus 6:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, I call,

The sister of the night’s eternal queen,

To cosmic laws, my soul must humbly keep,

Submissive to the order of the dead.

Verse 6:

Three days I hung, by death’s cold hand suspended,

But Enki’s touch revived me on the fourth,

From netherworld, new life was thus extended,

And death gave birth to all that walks the earth.

Chorus 7:

Nin Ereshkigal-me-en, I reign,

The sister of the queen who rules below,

In me all realms united shall remain,

Now and for all eternity’s long flow.

Verse 7:

And in my vessel shines the thirteenth moon,

Between the light of life and shadow’s shade,

Yet when illusion’s gate is opened soon,

The vessel’s crushed, and all its dreams do fade.

(A hymn as Propaedeutics for Ritual Invocation, 12/08/2024)

Farah Rud Valley

The kitchen smells of kidney pie, mother cooks, relieved, 

Sixteen thousand for enduring freedom die, 

The TV recites the newest lie, another fifteen grieved, 

Winning hearts and minds, checks unpaid, I sigh.

Open doctor's bills, endless dollars for a B1 Lancer, 

At cenotaphs, flags and trumpets laud the gain, 

Holds many secrets, peace rules out any answer, 

Not part of remembrance, a whole world’s pain.

Birds sing in a blossom spring at the Farah Rud, 

Under endless sky, a young couple swears a bond, 

Farmers bring iris and roses, somewhere plays a flute, 

Still unsanctioned, their sole property, until bombed.

Outside the mosque, a huge crater, spread corpses, 

False intelligence, the first strike, the TV speaks, 

The bride hurries with the youngest to the safe north, 

All will be killed, by accident, someone leaks.

Silence, after two thousand-pound Mark 84 payload, 

Pungent smell from the unworthy victims, flags of truce, 

Indistinct bodies in mass graves along the road, 

Their liberators played the deuce.

Casualties of their inconvenient defiance, 

No space in the memory of the enduring empire, 

For those outside a lucrative alliance, 

Not part of remembrance in a world on fire.

In Remembrance of the victims of Granai: May 4th, 2009

Note:

Based on the video interview with Guy Smallman, he discussed the tragic events of May 4, 2009, in Granai, Afghanistan, during which a B-1B bomber dropped bombs resulting in significant civilian casualties. Smallman, the only Western journalist to visit the site shortly after the incident, recounted the harrowing details of the bombing. He described how the villagers were unaware of the impending attack and how the airstrikes led to the death of many civilians, including children. He emphasized that the villagers reported no Taliban presence within the village, contradicting the US military's claims that the Taliban were using civilian compounds for cover. Smallman also highlighted the tragic aftermath, including a mass grave where the remains of 54 individuals were interred due to the inability to identify the fragmented bodies.

References:

Sinclair, I. (2016, December 12). The Granai massacre: Interview with Guy Smallman. Ian Sinclair Journalism. Retrieved from https://ianjsinclair.wordpress.com

ZNetwork. (n.d.). Granai massacre: Interview with Guy Smallman. Retrieved from https://znetwork.org

YouTube. (2023, July 20). Guy Smallman interview [Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/5mDuxFnn2RY?si=EeV9Cq5zMWRcbJJH (Time mark: 45:45).

Jenseits aller Wege

Das Wiedersehn, gefeiert laut und froh,

Das Wandervolk, das kennt kein langes Leiden,

In ihrem Gang, nehmen sie leicht das Scheiden,

Gewiss, man trifft sich wieder irgendwo.