Oh, to the chalet with a silver chalice.
A chamber for my lover, when a challenger stands.
Demands, demands, oh the demons.
Comands life shall not end.
Merry the victuals and a stormy vice for the vicar.
Therefore, are work here is finished.
Light oh, dear burn thy thigh.
A trivet astray our bloody brains burst in vein.
Moons birth the scorn of cherishd lips.
Bodies dance upon love.
Mixtures of screams, howls of pain.
All is obscene.
Afairs are held high in this club.
Bitter is the sweet with lovely roses that fell before my feet.
Hearts smashed into a pulp.
While insane asyllems play with that children lear quite near.
Ah, ah, ah one on you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem