.
.
.
- + - equals:
foist thy cause... facile features
may render lines smooth, and
dirty old cigars smoke like a ham,
but it's the exulted thoughts
o'debased angels, we... guileless
we... in our crumbled shrines
and sin
it's that guileless sin o' we...
inveterate angels... lost n' found
entities your ravaged parents seek -
frantically sought in venal stores
the streets... in your LIFE
WEeee, so lost...
in the paradox o'
lucid words:
a mortar n' brick discourse
to our shielded estate
this, behemoth IRONY
= +... equals plus
Goodbye, then...
farewell to thee n' thy
Judas kiss.
pose thy farewell...
and so, miscarry grace
and to distant zones.
coddle that, the...
fractious temper o' Baal...
HE... HE...is thy FrIEND
Vaya con Diablo, my friend...
Vaya con... Diablo
._.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem