Don't lift the word too much    
 wooden cross iron cross    
 go to hell    
 the children of the dying.         
  
 Slowly turn off    
 leftovers from the night before    
 mixed ashes    
 those offerings to the gods that reason venerates.         
  
 There is no worse fear    
 than hunting    
 behind the deer    
 then to raise the cross of flames.        
  
 Call dizziness and nausea    
 when silence becomes an accomplice    
 remorse at making the other coit    
 without the rub.        
  
 Deliver the admirable juice    
 Mirabelle plums my sisters    
 where to indulge mirror    
 on beautiful summer nights.        
  
 By master's hand    
 to be born from the coal of the excavations    
 the rich power of kind words    
 to do gouzi-gouzi to the sons of the spirit.        
  
  
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