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Our lady of seven sorrows, |
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Mother of mourning, precious lich... |
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A white horse found your grave, |
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Then it was beheaded. |
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The funeral goat's semen |
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Annoints your resting place. |
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Far below, the state you're in replenishes |
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My well of loss |
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As things from beyond watch as you rot |
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Beneath me. |
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Wretchedly, I pine as I begin at once to claw |
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The earth |
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To free you from the worms, to free you |
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From damnation. |
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The stake in your bosom pains me too... |
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Wistfully, I gaze into those empty holes |
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Which once were eyes |
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That beheld so much blood, that beheld so |
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Much evil... |
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Cyanotic lips caress the cold grey face of |
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One interred |
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Whose flesh is much too frail, whose flesh |
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Begins to quiver. |
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Mistress of my flesh, |
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Your servant longs for your kiss, |
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To hold you once again, |
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All pretty with blood... |
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Now shall all of heaven weep. |
