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Palmyra
by
Rome
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Sin upon our ears, minds bewitched We go step away from deaf complaints Let’s descend to hell, slowly Through the reeking darkness, slowly Bring the meats, the wine, the vultures and the snakes The disgusting heroes are our allies But you don’t have the smell of priests You don’t have the smell Happy is the one who can get into the serene fields The one who can prеtend to a intemporal perfumе Shiver at medium heat, at a thousand christian names Bad odeur nearby the incredulous that made the faithful stagger in their faith But you don’t have the smell of the law You don’t have the smell She doesn’t loudly shouts, nor gestures, the nation of debris She dreams of scaffold under the sun that remains And we play with the wind around the guillotines That would revive the hatred in your chest You that spread suffering alike a divine cure But you don’t have the smell of the priest You don’t have the smell Invited at the eternal feast, save me a spot in the legions of the poet And you shiver, you throb, my angel, my favorite beast Go ahead, raise your pious arms, facing people’s anger Under the lost temples of the antique palmyra But you don’t have the smell of the martyr You don’t have the smell Under the vultures’ gaze, bring the meats, the wines In the lost temples of the antique palmyra But you don’t have the smell of the empire You don’t have the smell Last words: all starts in mysticism, and ends in politics
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