---

He was there, on the border of his mind, on the depths of despair,

Howling there is no remorse, no atonement to achieve,
He was a scourge for the world and a plague for his soul.

He was there, thinking back on his glory days,
When his blood was fresh, when his bones were unscathed

Howling there is no remorse, no atonement to achieve,
He was a scourge for the world and a plague for his soul.

Fingers on the head like as many barrels
Brooding over and over, on the border of his life.
There is no way to escape from the past

Life has gone by in a remaining jumble
Of disgusting deeds and memories.
Yearning to be free...

Il est allé dans les bas-fonds de son âme
Et en fût marqué à jamais,
Trainant la croix de ses méfaits
S'alourdissant de la mélasse amassée

Howling there is no remorse, no atonement to achieve,
He was a scourge for the world and a plague for his soul.

Worms eating him are like as many blasphems, as many treasons
Abstaining from the Holy Retreat, as an ultimate act of rebellion

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