The moon shines in the night sky while the owls cross the air.
The cold aura of the ghosts announces the forthcoming collapse.
Rain of feathers falling slow, days of darkness and snow.
Dust of heaven the clouds of blood, guts and urine, marrow and bone.
Run through all the centuries of this congenital repulsion,
Vortex of tragedies, putrid blessings of the cosmos.
The earthless illusions, eternal wanderers, fly.
In the gluttony of the kings we all get consumed, eventually.
The cold aura of the ghosts announces the forth coming collapse.