Questa volgia to the centre of the rim,
We stared into the gauzing of the angels,
Multitude in spiral facet face
With lying bodies and faces
That who does die can hardly be said to live
Not like that of mortals and other denizens
Encased in tubes of meat: dying from the moment
That they are born
Hologram dispatch unto the East
And renew the tawdry earth.
And while they live they are dispatched
To awaken buy the day,
That search for the grieving sun:
l’amore che move il sole e l’atri stelle.