Aversion, execration.
His own disowned species.
A handful of tortured specimens,
Weak, tearful, cowardly,
Revealed, begging for forgiveness.
The shields no longer protect.
There are no more secret weapons.
Plus de faux espoirs.
The magic at the boundaries has vanished.
Despair has punctered the eyes, the eardrums,
Has reduced the fists of rage and hate
To shred against stone and flesh.
Soon empty carcasses are crawling
And mingling on the marble steps.
The dislocated, random hands,
Towards the altar dripping moldy remains
Of fate that the crack has vomited.
The hearts are tightening,
The last rales are expelled.
A decrepit sound, powerless despite its will,
Which continues ad infinitum,
Which goes with dismay
Along the chasm.
Among the rubble a head is standing.
No need to see. To feel the feeble silver glow
Grabbing the remains of the soul,
Which vibrates and lets go.
Under the fossil of the final world
Mold is at work
As bones and stone are swept away.
The last witness is scrutinizing
A tiny, stable detail...
Crushed, his feeling of death,
Denied, his mockery of life.
No death, no life.
Under the halos of his dying star,
He is showing his relic
That a swarm of spores is shading.
The putrid, completed, is freeing itself from its base.
Their journey is long to the crater.
Still heavy and clumsy steps.
On every footprint rises descendant
Spitting its seed on the pale ally.
The waves of lights radiating through the sky,
The earth quaking and smoking,
The invisible chains that are gripping and dragging,
Nothing is disrupting his contemplation.
Ni le désir brûlant, ni la soif de pouvoir.
Streams of silvery memories are already swallowed.
Beyond the fire and the stars, a new oracle cracked a sky.
First huge at dawn,
The venom still weakens towards a hasty twilight...
De plus en plus sombre et hostile
Rictus sur les fables du passé.
Until the irreversible happens.
A fatal wound, so deep
That is gushing out in continuous waves.
The unstoppable pain is shaking the minds.
The greatest feat becomes an aberration.
The spilled sweat and blood are blackening
The greedy lands of the guide-less nights.
Through its galleries, power is scattering,
Corrupted by the decay of the depths.
The shadow is digging and digging again
Under rows of aphatic purulence
But the wound is wide open
To bury the relic.
Broyé, son sentiment de mort,
Renié, son simulacre de vie.
Sous les halos de son étoile disparue
Il dissimule sa relique.
Donne moi ce pouvoir antique conception,
Donne moi ce pouvoir.
Donne moi ce pouvoir qui te fait perdre la raison.
Abandonne.
Abandonne cette souillure que tu as tant maudit.
Abandonne.
Laisse-nous te libérer de ton fardeau.
Laisse-nous accomplir notre oeuvre...
Blinded.
Blinded even beyond.
Why am I so vulnerable ?
Rooted in a land that is no longer mine.
Can I be one of you ?
Is there a god to decide ?
Are you like us on your own ?
Are you ever fooled like we were ?
