Neoarchaean

True sorrow doesn't flirt with hope

No matter how great it may be: hope rises twice as high

But spare me these seekers!

Leave me in peace

Down with them, down, down, down, down! That which suffers, does never hope

For they will no longer impress me

With all of the solemnity and with the voice of my greatest days: I call to you my hearth, glorious hope! Wrapped in the cloak of illusions

Come and sit beside me

On the tripod of appeasement

With a whip of scorpions I chased you! If you wish me to believe that

You have forgotten all the grief

Which my short-lived repentance caused you: Well, then bring along with you

The sublime procession - hold me up, I am fainting! - of all the virtues which I offended... and their everlasting atonements

Yes, good people

I order you to burn

On a spade red-hot from the fire

And with a little yellow sugar for good measure: to burn the duck of doubt

With its vermouth lips... which in the melancholy struggle between good and evil

Shedding teardrops which are not heartfelt

Creates everywhere, universal emptiness! It is the best thing you can do

Certainly, flesh and bone, you have no reason to blush: but listen to me

I don't invoke your understanding

It would spit blood at the horror you cause! Better forget all about it, and be consistent with yourselves! There were no constraints there

Whenever I wanted to kill... I killed