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How many times will |
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I look at you? |
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Allured by the scent of your death |
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And the savage priests, to a suffering soul |
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Exult in a strangled song |
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I am soothed from anger into sorrow |
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As they knot their wreaths against my limbs |
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Help me understand the stench in my mind |
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Why do they impair our vision? |
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Can anyone taste my blood? |
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I have clung, quivering, with bruised flesh |
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Christendom rise and dress yourself |
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What delicious tears you've made me shed |
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Beloved, how many times |
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I look at you |
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With suspended breath, and unguarded heart? |
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Like a cradled child you hold me (With hysterical affection, to console this loss) |
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Beloved Their semblance of love curses your beauty |
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In the blindness of my distress |
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In your dense black eyes |
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I see your silent grief |
