by Tristan Corbiere
The Murdered eye is not dead
A spike still splits it
Nailed up I am coffinless
They drove the nail in my eye
The nailed eye is not dead
And the spike still splits it
Deus misericors
Deus misericors
The hammer pounds my wooden head
The hammer that will make the cross
Deus misericors
Deus misericors
The undertaker birds
Are thus afraid of my body
My gologotha is not over
Lamma lamma sabacthani
Doves of Death
Be thirsty for my body
Red as a gun-port
The sore is on the edge
Like the drooling gum
Of a toothless laughing old woman
The sore is on the edge
Red as a gun-port
I see circles of gold
The white sun bites me
I've two holes pierced by an iron bar
Reddened in the forge of hell
I see a circle of gold
The sky's fire bites me
In the marrow twists
A tear which comes out
I see inside paradise
Miserere de profundis
In my skull twists
A sulfur tear which comes out
Blessed the good dead man
The saved dead man who sleeps
Happy the martyrs the chosen
With the Virgin and the Jesus
Oh blessed the dead man
The judged dead man who sleeps
A knight outside
Reposes without remorse
In the hallowed cemetery
In his granite siesta
The man of stone outside
Has two eyes without remorse
Oh, I feel you still
Yellow moors of Armor
I feel my rosary in my fingers
And Christ in bore on the wood
I gape at you still
O dead Armor Sky
Pardon for praying hard
Lord, if it is fate
My esyes two burning holy-water fonts
The devil puts his fingers inside
Pardon for crying loud
Lord against fate
I hear the northwind
Which bugles like a horn
It is the hunting call for the kill of the dead
I bay enough on my own
I hear the northwind
I hear the horn's knell
(Translation by Kenneth Koch & Georges Guy)