Greg Rice - I will strike you without anger And without hatred, like a butcher, How Moﳥ the rock! And I will make your eyelid, To water my Saharah, To spout out water of the suffering. My inflated desire of hope On your salted tears will swim As a vessel which takes the broad one, And in my heart which they will so묥ront Your dear sobs will resound How a drum which beats the load! I am not a false agreement In the divine symphony, Thanks to the voracious irony Who shakes me and who bites me? It is in my voice, the yelling one! It is all my blood, this black poison! I am the disaster mirror Where the shrew looks at herself. I am the wound and the knife! I am the bellows and the cheek, I am the members and the wheel, And the victim and the torturer! I am of my heart the vampire, - One of these large abandoned With the laughter condemned eternal And which cannot smile any more!