The Burning Dawn

Lying wet, the object I saw
In this red morning, on a bed made of stones
Legs in the air, like a nympho slut
Burning and sweating poisons...

Open, cynic and cut
Her womb full of exhalations
The morning sun reflect
On this putrid womb

As the skies looked down the carcass
The world gave back a strange choir:
Chanting Satanas:

Crawling... in pestilence obscene
The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes

Forms were erased and nothing but a dream
A slow outline to come on the forgotten womb
Only by a sight of memory survived
Yet similar to this refuse

Crawling... in a devotion obscene
The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes
Swallowed... in misery
Cursed eternally

O horrible infection, foul of my eyes
Vermin of nature, passion angels!

Such you will be, ô worms of life
After thy last sacraments, mildewing among the bones