by Tristan Corbiere  The Murdered eye is not dead  A spike still splits it  Nailed up I am coffinless  They drove the nail in my eye  The nailed eye is not dead  And the spike still splits it  Deus misericors  Deus misericors  The hammer pounds my wooden head  The hammer that will make the cross  Deus misericors  Deus misericors  The undertaker birds  Are thus afraid of my body  My gologotha is not over  Lamma lamma sabacthani  Doves of Death  Be thirsty for my body  Red as a gun-port  The sore is on the edge  Like the drooling gum  Of a toothless laughing old woman  The sore is on the edge  Red as a gun-port  I see circles of gold  The white sun bites me  I've two holes pierced by an iron bar  Reddened in the forge of hell  I see a circle of gold  The sky's fire bites me  In the marrow twists  A tear which comes out  I see inside paradise  Miserere de profundis  In my skull twists  A sulfur tear which comes out  Blessed the good dead man  The saved dead man who sleeps  Happy the martyrs the chosen  With the Virgin and the Jesus  Oh blessed the dead man  The judged dead man who sleeps  A knight outside  Reposes without remorse  In the hallowed cemetery  In his granite siesta  The man of stone outside  Has two eyes without remorse  Oh, I feel you still  Yellow moors of Armor  I feel my rosary in my fingers  And Christ in bore on the wood  I gape at you still  O dead Armor Sky  Pardon for praying hard  Lord, if it is fate  My esyes two burning holy-water fonts  The devil puts his fingers inside  Pardon for crying loud  Lord against fate  I hear the northwind  Which bugles like a horn  It is the hunting call for the kill of the dead  I bay enough on my own  I hear the northwind  I hear the horn's knell  (Translation by Kenneth Koch & Georges Guy)