He is the scourge He is the wounds He is the purge who brings the final dooms The plague of mental madness The peddler of total sadness In a dark procession he walks slowly In a cold depression serenely He is them They are him Prodigy of the gods' brain The grim Coming from a land of fire As a messenger of the impious Of the false beliefs The purifier and the callous A sudden attraction Forges me to follow the crowd In a morbid fascination I let myself be wowed Despite my cartesian mind The eyes of the black pharaoh Make my conscience blind In a cry of absurd woe "Soon from the sea a noxious birth began Forgotten lands with weedy spires of gold The ground was cleft, and mad auroras rolled Down on the quaking citadels of man Then, crushing what he chanced to mould in play The idiot chaos blew earth's dust away" "Alors écrasant ce qu'il avait eu l'occasion de modeler Le chaos idiot balaya la poussière de la terre" Now floating in unholy rivers I see the twilight In the mirror of sinners I see the night Cause of the infinite and countless worlds He is the whole of the tenebrous and ultimate gods He is the soul