Black Heralds Lyrics

There are blows in life, so formidable... I don't know!
Blows as from God's hatred; as if when struck,
the undertow from everything suffered
were forming wells in your soul...I don't know!

They are few, but they are. they open dark gullies
in the fiercest face and strongest back.
Perhaps they are the colts of barbarous Attilas;
or the black heralds sent to us by Death.

They are profound abysses of the Christs of the soul,
of some exalted faith that Destiny blasphemes.
Those bloodsoaked blows are crepitations
from bread burning at the oven door.

And man.... Poor...creature! His eyes turn back, as
when someone claps us on the shoulder;
his crazed eyes turn back, and that he has lived
forms a well, like a pool of guilt, in his gaze.

There are blows in life, so formidable... I don't know!