That is the colour of anguish,
flat and impenetrable, cannot
be reduced any further than
the nothing it has become,
in total need of something.
Oh, you of the pure and
unassailed Light, the easy holiness,
you do not know the anguish
that has impounded me; you do not
know the Nights whose black summons
have ravaged my soul; you do not know how
heavy the sky has become
upon my bony, brittle shoulders,
as I try to uphold
the weight of my colossal aspirations
in spite of this
unworthiness before God.
Oh, you of the Light,
you do not know my darkness,
fetter, eternal clamp
upon the hoarse dog of my city,
upon the crippled corpse of my love.
Vie as I do for the impenetrable Light,
it is always back to this,
I who have attained to the summit of sin.
I who have been hurled from the mounts of the Lord,
and tossed into darkness
as I do