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Galas Diamanda Saint Of The Pit Blind Man's Cry 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) |
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