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!)
For they will no longer impress me
With all of the solemnity and with the voice of my great 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
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