1. PRISONER OF A MORBID CRADLE

When I awake the darkness of a sinisterly terror swoops down on me as proud and cruel birds of prey.
I grope my prison, miserable and whimpering.
My cell is so narrow that I can hardly move fated to this imprisoning gaul because of an unknown lack.
I can find neither door nor window and I feel in me and horrible panic.
O Hell would be a delight for me!
I would like more suffer thousand pairs forever feel fire, iron, whip, blade on my skin rather than stay in this hole.
My life will be now a ghastly loneliness.
O two beast at least would curl up both!
I scratch, I scratch, I break my nails against the wooden wall...
Is there therefore no glimmer of hope?
Over me, the human indifference...
I was fated, sentenced and I've already died, forgotten by all.
Over me, round me, an immensity of earth smothers me...
Skin if a gate too weak and will succumb flagly to Death...
O Hell would be a delight for me! I would prefer suffer thousand pairs forever rather than know me shrouded.
I'm the buried alive who struggles and whires in vain... My prison is my coffin.
Its kisses of earth will fill my mouth, my eyes, my heart, my body!
My corpse will be in pasture to the vermin which will dip out of me the strength to swarm.
The absurdity of my destiny blinds me...
I resign myself and I'm dying... I'm dying, I'm...


2. THE FOREST WAS A NEVERENDING PLACE

The Dark forest entices my soul toward the wildest crimes.
Under the worshiped archways of secret trees.
Feeling the blade of my sickly penetrate into a sleeping girl's body.

Making go out her skinking of innocence entrails.
And making them devoured by the black wolves of the night.
Which obey only me, master of darkness.

The forest is beautiful as the dark night.
It moves and screams and bites me with a frozen death rattle.
The forest is a poetical labyrinth inhabited by strange muses.

But the moss covers itself of my sucked victim.
At glimmers of dawn, I get back to the funeral room of my castle.
I leave you, forest of mystery!

But as soon as the night, I'll meet you, since I'm your promised master!


3. A DYING OUT ECSTACY

She has the beauty of unraped statues.
Her body is frail but her presence is queen.
I had so invocated her that letters of her name become for me divinities to worship.

Black will be the color of our eternal engagement.
The fascinating instart of of her state without glimmer possessed me wholly.

She had made up her pale cheek-bones of purple powder and lacqued her lips of thick blood.
Her hair swings in the rhythms of her light touches as a snake round its prey.

The dark cloth of her dress falls on her body without shapes.
And her skinny hands are adored with long nails like threatening claws.
The silent melting of our bodies shoots painfully.
Shroud me will in your morbid body which stinks so nice!


4. MORT D'UNE VESTALE

Illie erat nox omnibus noetibus nigrior densiorque.
Duo mali dei noctu ad praedam pugnabant.
“Vitii dominus ferfidissimusque sum. Exitium ludus quem do cum saeuitia est.
Impulsus incensusque via, to delebo ! Occidam abducan corpus eidus plenae religionis sacrae puellae. Sic luciferum colam !
Ego indutus ut now. Malus meus dominus est.
Flammae etiam fanum usserunt. Puella fugit sed eam habeo !
Me delecto quia audio eam flere, qui audio suas querelas.
Danguis propter saecum ingenium fluet.
Puniam eam qui hunacitatem, gentes, deum amat!”
Puella clamauit.
Suos dominos adspexit.
Suum imperium idem erat.
Tunc duo mali dei consenserunt pro duo
Sawnitia ingeniorum corsortio. Sua umbra praedam incidit.
Virinis ululatus musica mali victoriae fuit.