Sparks of blood, dark heat
And litanies sung in a low voice,
Decorate the insolent night,
A magical jingle
Flies through the throats
Of sad vagabonds
On the backs of chemical birds
Nurtured with milk and hemlock.
Lamentations and hammers
Embellish their thirsty hearts,
The Arabic prayers
Of men and boys
Get lost in the folds
Of the lying night...
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