(by Emile Verhaeren)
Death has tasted blood
in the cabaret of three coffins
Death put down on the counter,
a black crown
and then went on her way
Death went on her way
very slowly
to look for the last rites
They saw coming back the priest
and the choir boys
too late
to the house
whose windows were closed
Death has tasted blood
She was Drunk with it

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