…The depths of abjection, a throne of manure But even during the ecstasies of beatification It is by no means possible to separate them The den of serpents, the knot of vipers corruption-bred And the balzing spirit of the mystic heaven above Angel browed with brass Wreathed by a halo, sublime and infinite Tunneled by vermin …Feverish miasmas and a silent canticle…
Implemini Spiritu Sancto The scorching heat of the furnace inside galvanizes A grapevine whose roots sink deep, far into the arteries In contemplation the Lord of harvests long gone Shall murmur obscene wonders to those who ate the grape Desperately feeding the empty void Growing on innocent blood, the stronger and the greater 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 O deformity, hear the weeping prayers 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