A Song Of Ashes
Elend
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Les corps n'en finissent pas de brŭler.
Onde de sang, vent ardent.
I rolled like the sand
the
water
unfurls.
We are the everdead, the spark in the air.
Dust and water,
The blood of the harvest.
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And aimless on those muddy fields,
we wandered all night.
The columns of ashes
from the pyres draw
a solemn temple:
We have reached the altar.
Les corps n'en finissent pas de brŭler.