…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 blazing 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