Tutuguri: The Rite Of The Black Sun

And below, its at the bottom of the bitter, cruelly desperate slope of the heart,
The circle of the six crosses opens, far below.
As if embedded in the mother earth,
Disembedded from the filthy embrace of the mother who slobbers,
The earth of black coal is the only humid spot in this cleft of rock.
The rite is that the new sun passes through seven points before exploding at this earths orifice.
And there are six men, one for each sun,
And a seventh man who is the sun comletely raw dressed in black and red flesh.
Now this seventh man is a horse, a horse with a man leading him.
But it is the horse that is the sun and not the man.
On the rending of a drum and of a long peculiar trumpet
The six men who were lying down
Rolled up flush with the ground,
Spring up successively like sunflowers,
not suns at all, but turning soils, lotuses of water,
And to each upspring corresponds the increasingly gloomy and repressed gong of the drum,
Until suddenly we see coming in full gallop, at vertiginous speed, vertigo speed
The last sun, the first man,
The black horse with a man naked, absolutely naked, and virgin on it.
Having gambled they advance following circular meanders in the horse of bloody meat panics
And caracoles without stopping
on the top of its rock
until the six men have finished encircling completely the six crosses
Now, the major tone of the rite is precisely
THE ABOLITION OF THE CROSS
THE ABOLITION OF THE CROSS
THE ABOLITION OF THE CROSS
THE ABOLITION OF THE CROSS
Having finishedturning,
they uproot the earths crosses
And the man naked on the horse raises high
an immense horseshoe which is tempered in a cut of his blood