Le corps n’en finissent pas de brûler
Onde de sang, vent ardent.
I rolled like the sand
the
water
unfurls.
We are the everdead, the spark in the air.
Dust and water,
The blood of the harvest
And aimless on those muddy fields,
We wandered all night.
The columns of ashes
From the pyres draw
A solemn temple
We have reached the altar.
Les corps n’en finissent pas de brûler.
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