| …The depths of abjection, a throne of manure
|
| But even during the ecstasies of beatification
|
| It is by no means possible to separate them
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| The den of serpents, the knot of vipers corruption-bred
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| And the blazing spirit of the mystic heaven above
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| Angel browed with brass
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| Wreathed by a halo, sublime and infinite
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| Tunneled by vermin
|
| …Feverish miasmas and a silent canticle…
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| Implemini Spiritu Sancto
|
| The scorching heat of the furnace inside galvanizes
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| A grapevine whose roots sink deep, far into the arteries
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| In contemplation the Lord of harvests long gone
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| Shall murmur obscene wonders to those who ate the grape
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| Desperately feeding the empty void
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| Growing on innocent blood, the stronger and the greater
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| In ruthless rigour, in funeral glee
|
| Implemini Spiritu Sancto
|
| The foam of nausea slowly rising to the teeth
|
| Yes! |
| Truly adorned with the grim regalia of perdition
|
| I shall hold high a bowl of gems of unseen radiance
|
| Enveloping spirit and will in seraphic rapture
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| O deformity, hear the weeping prayers
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| Arise from rot, be my child! |
| Be my promise!
|
| The nebulae in the superior sky howled like a starving hound
|
| Aboyeurs de dieu! |
| Aboyeurs de Dieu!
|
| Implemini Spiritu Sancto |