The Bride of death

The Bride of death

One who unable to love
compels to love his cruelty –
the Pride of chimaeras torturing
the Love again in an Earthly paradise.

Those who unable to live – kill,
just like that, because of their nature.
Rough–plump crowds laps up
the blood and tears of the crucified children.

Debris tore on four sides
skies and spring harmony...
There is no crosses, no graves in altercation –
triumphs «Je suis de Sade»!

Rejoice, the Maiden of Babylon –
you will have the grace,
Wind will break your tunes
against the headstones of graves.

To destroy the destroyers of the Earth,
to give to tares their own fruit –
this is mercy, the Lord accepts
altars of your high–places.

Drink wine, bloody Larva the daimon–bitch,
under the moon of stars and sickle!
You will barf everything covert things, Barbarian,
all skulls of saint infants.

Not for Me, you wore Lambs –
but for your scarlet lips;
I am – not a flesh, but you cooked
philtre the love-balm.

Oh, crazy Critter – beast that similar
with his gentle face to the Most High Gods!
Your Swasti the wellbeing of prolific fields
I'll give to Dragon teeth.

Do not call Me more the Most High,
for you – I'm a bone in the throat,
on the palms crimson cherry
and hope of unfulfilled anger.

And then you sing to Me:
One Who unable to love – compels!
Spirit will answer, ringing by echo:
no Grain of wheat in the weeds,
everyone knows.
For the fire you were born,
Bride, wife of god of death...