Ludwig Von 88
This Happy Day Is Full of Joy
In the Garden of Allah
In the Garden of Allah pounded with burning carcasses
Run fictitious chromatic thrills allegories
Barren and dirty dust rises in thick whirlwinds
Lifts a last fiery breath to the lost tourist
S' moves a charged wind wind of fire sirocco
Wavy from dunes to dunes in illusory reflections
Fire under that of the sun which gnaws which heats
Shoot at the snakes aim at the grains of sand
In the garden of Allah a green past agonizes
Planted here and there with an old carcass of DC-10
In the garden of Allah sweet as death here is the night
Icy like these loves which dissolve into dissonant chords
Without a doubt the mountains come to him and burst into flames
High time to make the powder sing and the women scream
Will there remain a little humility for his beloved sons
By the glory and madness with which he overheats and pounds them
To know if he is great
If it moves the mountains
And if the Harmattan
A rain of flames is generated
In the sky it radiates
A light too dense
Know if they come to him
Chastify their ignorance

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS