From 3a019c609be84d7380bbac232cca3f4542bcce69 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: grr <grr@lo2.org>
Date: Tue, 25 Jun 2024 03:06:30 -0400
Subject: handwritten toc. final fixes. sics

---
 tomb500000.tex | 188 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++---------------------------
 1 file changed, 98 insertions(+), 90 deletions(-)

(limited to 'tomb500000.tex')

diff --git a/tomb500000.tex b/tomb500000.tex
index 2b579cf..9e3f242 100644
--- a/tomb500000.tex
+++ b/tomb500000.tex
@@ -15,7 +15,7 @@
 \usepackage{mwe}
 \usepackage{csquotes}
 \usepackage{amssymb} % for speech delimeters
-\usepackage{ulem} 
+\usepackage[normalem]{ulem} 
 
 \usepackage{fdsymbol} % for speech delimeters
 \usepackage[pagestyles]{titlesec}
@@ -33,6 +33,7 @@
 % ---- lib
 \newcommand\filmtitle[1]{\booktitle{#1}}
 \newcommand\secbreak{\vskip 3em}
+\newcommand\sic{\editornote{[sic]}}
 
 
 \newcommand\gl{$\langledot$\thinspace}
@@ -51,6 +52,18 @@
 		 \parbox{0.25in}{\strut\thepage}}
 	\setfoot[][][]{}{}{}}
 
+\newcommand\song[1]{
+	\renewpagestyle{tmb}[]{
+		\sethead[\parbox{0.25in}{\strut\raggedleft\thepage}\parbox[c]{2cm}{\centering%
+		\pgfornament[height=0.5cm,width=1cm,ydelta=-3pt]{11}}%
+		\parbox{1in}{\strut\emph{Pierre Guyotat}}][][]{}{}
+		{\parbox{1in}{\strut\raggedleft\textsc{#1}}%
+		\parbox[c]{2cm}{\centering\pgfornament[height=0.5cm,width=1cm,ydelta=-3pt]{14}}%
+		\parbox{0.25in}{\strut\thepage}}
+		\setfoot[][][]{}{}{}}
+	\pagestyle{tmb}}
+
+
 \titleformat{\chapter}[block]{\scshape \Huge}{}{1em}{\raggedleft}
 \titlespacing*{\chapter}{4em}{3em}{4em}
 
@@ -68,13 +81,14 @@
 
 % -- title
 \begin{centering}
-	{ \includegraphics[scale=0.6]{img/titlehdr} }
+	{ \includegraphics[scale=0.5]{img/titlehdr} }
 	\vfill
 	{ \includegraphics[scale=0.75]{img/title} }
 
+	\vskip 5em
 	\vfill
 
-	{\includegraphics[scale=1]{img/author}}
+	{\includegraphics[scale=0.8]{img/author}}
 	\vfill
 	{\raggedleft \includegraphics[width=1.5in]{img/stamp}\par}
 	\vfill
@@ -100,7 +114,7 @@ by Creation Books
 \sout{World English rights reserved}
 
 \sout{\textcopyright\ Editions Gallimard 1968}
-}\parbox{1.5in}{\includegraphics[scale=0.5]{img/sal}}
+}\parbox{1.4in}{\includegraphics[scale=0.5]{img/sal}}
 
 
 
@@ -120,26 +134,41 @@ by Creation Books
 \vfill
 
 {\noindent This book is published with the support of \hrulefill\null
-
-\noindent \sout{--- the French Ministry of Culture} \hfill \itshape{brea} \varheartsuit\\
-\sout{--- Centre National du Livre} \hfill \itshape{brooke derek kira ian ix} \\
-\sout{--- the French Ministry for Foreign} \hfill \itshape{K C R M C -{}- World} \\
-\sout{Affairs (as part of the Burgess} \hfill \itshape{Food Books -{}- Book Row}\\
-\sout{programme headed for the French} \hfill \itshape{Ben Ryan Noel Alex}\\
-\sout{Embassy in London by the Institut} \\
-\sout{Francais du Royaume-Uni)}\\
+\vfill
+\noindent \sout{--- the French Ministry of Culture} \hfill \tld\tld\tld\itshape{brea} \varheartsuit\tld\tld\tld\\
+\sout{--- the French Ministry for Foreign} \hfill \itshape{ayla brooke derek}\\
+\sout{Affairs (as part of the Burgess} \hfill \itshape{ian ix kira --- \textbf{\uline{K} \uline{C} \uline{R} \uline{M}}}\\
+\sout{programme headed for the French} \hfill \itshape{\textbf{\uline{C}} --- World Food Books}\\
+\sout{Embassy in London by the Institut} \hfill \itshape{--- Book Row --- alex}\\
+\sout{Francais du Royaume-Uni)} \hfill \itshape{ben hell john nolan ryan tyler}\\
+}
+\vfill
 \null \hfill \itshape{thank u} \\
 \vfill
 \null\hfill \uline{\itshape{https://salitter.org}}\\
 \null\hfill \itshape{instagram @salitters}\\
-}}}
+}}
 
 \vfill
 
 \clearpage
-%\thispagestyle{empty}
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\begin{centering}
+	\newcommand\tgfx[1]{\includegraphics[width=3.75in]{img/#1}}
+	\null
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc1}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc2}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc3}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc4}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc5}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc6}
+	\vfill \tgfx{toc7}
+	\vfill
+\end{centering}
+
+
+\clearpage 
 
-%\tableofcontents
 \thispagestyle{empty}
 
 \chapter{Introduction}
@@ -160,39 +189,34 @@ In its anatomization of the forms of conflict and massacre, \booktitle{Tomb for
 
 \clearpage
 \pagestyle{empty}
+\mainmatter
 
 % -- dedication
 {
 	\null \vfill
 	\speech{to Hubert, youngest brother of my dead mother, born 1920 in Czeladz, Upper-Silesia, died 1943 at the extermination camp of Oranienburg-Sachsenhausen, Brandenburg.}
 	\vfill\null\vfill\null\vfill
-\clearpage
 }
-\thispagestyle{empty}
-
+\clearpage
 
-\mainmatter
 
-{\centering
-\null\vfill
 \thispagestyle{empty}
+\begin{centering}
+\null\vfill
 \includegraphics[width=4in]{img/ecbatana}
-
-
 \includegraphics[width=4in]{img/ecbatana_cap}
-
 \vfill
-}
+\end{centering}
 \clearpage
 
 
-%\chapter{First Song}
-\cleardoublepage
 \pagestyle{tmb}
+\song{First Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
 \null\vskip 4em
 \includegraphics{img/first}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 In those times, war covered Ecbatane. Many slaves escaped, clung to the victors, but when these tried to get information about the resistance of the occupied, the slaves refused to tell the names of their former masters, and therefore fell into even greater servitude. Ecbatane then was still the widest capital of the Occident: it had been built along fifteen kilometers of coastline. Every day, the beaches below the sea front boulevard, were covered with bodies of young members of the Resistance, who landed at night, only to be shot by the sea sentries. The victors had overcome easily: they had conquered a city which was ridding itself of its gods. Ecbatane was returning to the North, from where these victors, booted, helmeted, armor-plated, held the snow of their soles and the ice of their eyelashes. For a hundred years, the earth had been growing colder: Ecbatane's scientists worked secretly at a weapon capable of warming it up but the victors stole it from them. An airplane was built into which the weapon was put and also the scientists who were sent North. The victors persecuted those whom the capital threw out of its seas: adventurers, acrobats, soldiers. A few families, within the heart of the capital, refused to submit to the orders of denouncement and cruelty: their children, at night, would flee into the lands, others would embark in subterranean creeks of the south shore, all rallied in the Buxtehude archipelago still inviolate but covered day and night by the shadows of enemy bombers.
 
@@ -665,13 +689,14 @@ By evening, in Ecbatane, the newspapers are torn from hand to hand: Inamenas, du
 
 A ship leaves Ecbatane, soldiers shout on the deck, vomit over the rigging. Ierissos, Mantinee taken back by the princess, at night, in the middle of the sea, brings buckets of soup to the soldiers; the soldiers, drunk, chest and neck smeared with vomit, knock him down and plunge his head inside a bucket of scalding hot soup, until death.
 
-%\chapter{Second Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Second Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 
 \includegraphics{img/second}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 A city was rising out of the marshes, bordered at the east by the sea, at the west by the estuary of the river, Sebaou. The ancient working class district plunged into the marsh, towards the river where shacks made of bamboo and sheet metal vibrate day and night, built on piles. The new, residential district, is built on an artificial hill and protected from the slums by a screen of lime trees, almond trees and gum trees where the kites of officers' and higher civil servants' children get caught. The soldiers of the army occupying the island and maintaining order, those stationed at Inamenas, and those from the deep ends of the island who come to relax here from month to month, live under the trees, below the villas and the palaces, in barracks of concrete and green aluminum. At night, they bend over the roofs of the ancient district, they shout, they sing, they vomit in the moonlight and the quivering of leaves, and the smell of decay comes upon the silent slums. There, live families decimated by conscription and betrayal, pressed by hunger, desire and fear. At night, groups of children ragged and tattered, hair stuck to the skull by an unknown blood, run along the muddy alleys, fall in the rubbish, ride on each other in the soiled grass, knees plunged into the layer of human and animal shit. The women, hair glued to the mouth by the lipstick, in the light of half-opened doors, call while pulling up their stockings under the dress. Screams then shoot out of the piles of wood, the street angles, the bushes, the deserted latrines. Men smoke in front of the houses, sitting in circles over the mud. A gunshot tears the night, a sob springs up from a shack. The children, jostling the women busy fastening their garters, throw themselves on the soup, the cats claw the roof's metal sheets.
 
@@ -1773,13 +1798,14 @@ The midnight breeze softens the wound; Crazy Horse, his cut-off arm thrust under
 
 Crazy Horse's head rolls on his shoulder; milk runs under the slabs, under the stones, gushes from the end of the broken stems, flushes at the bottom of the violet sky; Crazy Horse's lips open up, kiss the crystals, the stars, the jackals' icy eyes; the arm comes out of the shirt; the battledress tears at the leg, the tear creases as far as the knee; the jackal's tongue licks and warms up the kneecap. The moon is resting on the orientation table.
 
-%\chapter{Third Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Third Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 
 \includegraphics{img/third}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 
 The slaughters, the blood from the rapes, the ashes of the burnings, nourish the earth. The governor is dreaming about his assassination. The military whom he disappointed, take to the maquis, the regular troops are resting, rebels from both camps butcher each other way up in the mountains.
@@ -2634,7 +2660,7 @@ The sergeants hide in the bushes, one of them aims at the rebel, fires, the rebe
 
 --- Rebellion, sir.
 
-The general lays the telephone on the corner of the table, pushes the kitchen door, his hand brushes the wall bricks; the waiters are up, sink their arms in the boiling water, wash up, filthy and torn cloths tied behind their backs; the waiter, in the alcove, cuts, slices, strikes the meat, the knife, the hatchet shoot out from his shoulder; he sees the general, his shorts are beating between his thighs
+The general lays the telephone on the corner of the table, pushes the kitchen door, his hand brushes the wall bricks; the waiters are up, sink their arms in the boiling water, wash up, filthy and torn cloths tied behind their backs; the waiter, in the alcove, cuts, slices, strikes the meat, the knife, the hatchet shoot out from his shoulder; he sees the general, his shorts are beating between his thighs:
 
 \bigbreak
 
@@ -2740,7 +2766,8 @@ They're stupid, coarse\ldots
 
 As for me, I know how to sing, I believe in God\ldots\ You're asleep?
 
-Illiten looks up, towards the soldier;
+Illiten looks up, towards the soldier;\sic % i guess this is right?
+
 
 --- So, when they arrive here, and they see your huts, your women, your clothes, and what lazy idiots you are\ldots\ they beat you like mirrors.
 
@@ -2818,8 +2845,7 @@ Illiten kisses his mother's eyelashes:
 
 She takes his hands, brings them to his mouth then crosses them on Illiten's brow: clamours rise, searchlights light up, on the hill:
 
---- They'll come, each time they smash everything, they set the dogs on
-your brothers\ldots
+--- They'll come, each time they smash everything, they set the dogs on your brothers\ldots
 
 Illiten sees on the children's feet, on their knees, scars still fresh.
 
@@ -2912,8 +2938,7 @@ The general's other hand moves up on the boy's chest, covers the breast, the tip
 
 --- Yes I do.
 
-The general's hand pushes the magazine; the pubic hair appears, all
-tangled, blackened by sweat; the general slips his little finger through the moist locks, presses on the root of the cock, pushes again the film magazine and the cock appears, half caught and held flat in the shirt's sleeve, the shirt being stuck and pulled under the soldier's buttocks; the general throws away the film magazine and sets his lips on the sleeve where the cock is caught under the stretched, throbbing cloth, over the cock's veins and muscles; the general nibbles, licks those throbbings:
+The general's hand pushes the magazine; the pubic hair appears, all tangled, blackened by sweat; the general slips his little finger through the moist locks, presses on the root of the cock, pushes again the film magazine and the cock appears, half caught and held flat in the shirt's sleeve, the shirt being stuck and pulled under the soldier's buttocks; the general throws away the film magazine and sets his lips on the sleeve where the cock is caught under the stretched, throbbing cloth, over the cock's veins and muscles; the general nibbles, licks those throbbings:
 
 --- That's where it hurts, commander.
 
@@ -3525,13 +3550,14 @@ The general wipes the sweat on his forehead, unbuttons the top of his shirt, sha
 
 --- \speech{Boy, lying naked on the dry sand, on the cliff, black rats and white rats fight in the bundles of acacia wood, under the night, I part pinching them between my fingers the lips of your cock, and I spit the bay leaf in there; I close again the sweet lips of your cock, and I arouse it with balls of amber from the sand, and I feel sperm rising and the muscle growing hard and I set my lips, wet by shame and quick remorse, on the half-opened lips of your marble cock and I suck in both the sperm and the laurel juice.}
 
-%\chapter{Fourth Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Fourth Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 
 \includegraphics{img/fourth}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 The captain leaves his room at noon, he sees the general's apartment's shutters closed. His men cross the courtyard, they come to him:
 
@@ -3577,8 +3603,7 @@ The captain leaves his room at noon, he sees the general's apartment's shutters
 
 --- A colonel and two lieutenants from security came to question him this morning: he spoke to the rebs in his mike, he warned them of the ambushes.
 
---- Shut up, Thivai hardly knew how to use his radio, and he's a straight
-lad.
+--- Shut up, Thivai hardly knew how to use his radio, and he's a straight lad.
 
 --- Captain, if it was true, what they accuse him of, should one kill him?
 
@@ -3587,8 +3612,7 @@ lad.
 --- Thivai, he's a swell guy. You remember the day he buried a reb and his son, in front of the cave; the chief kept quiet.
 
 % TODO same story
---- Thivai, he could do everything and he was a writer: one day, on leave, I saw a
-book by him in a train station.
+--- Thivai, he could do everything and he was a writer: one day, on leave, I saw a book by him in a train station.
 
 --- He'll get along against those shirkers.
 
@@ -3799,9 +3823,7 @@ Kment makes the children sit around the tree, tears a piece off, holds it out to
 
 Under the tree, the children are eating, the one the man fucked still smells of sweat, tobacco and man's clothes. The children pick the crumbs on their thighs, on the ground, around them; their belly soon swollen, the elder ones measure it, feel it, imagine the course of the bread through the stomach, the intestines, try to take a dislike to that soft bread, smeared with pale sap, falling from pocket to pocket, and rotting, blocked inside the kidneys. The children yawn, lie on the ground, nape supported by the roots of the eucalyptus.
 
-Kment walks behind the man, chuckles; glowing fires, puddles, fume inside the
-ditches; the bells of the archbishop's palace toll in the higher part of the city, the
-man slows down, stops, turns back:
+Kment walks behind the man, chuckles; glowing fires, puddles, fume inside the ditches; the bells of the archbishop's palace toll in the higher part of the city, the man slows down, stops, turns back:
 
 --- If you want to kill me, do it quickly. Attack me, grab my throat, hurry.
 
@@ -3815,8 +3837,7 @@ All around, dogs are searching the sand, digging up bones, storks soar above the
 
 Kment jumps among the rocks, crouches down, one hand dragging in a yellow puddle, and waits for the lizards; he brings down his hand, the lizard escapes; Kment on all fours, chases him; his wet hand squashes the lizard, the little hard head turns back, over the nail; Kment, between thumb and index, squeezes the open jaw, he raises his hand, the lizard is hanging, Kment bites the tail, gobbles it up, the belly writhes, bleeds; Kment grabs it, gobbles it up, the lizard's legs grapple on to his lips, Kment cuts them with his teeth, spits them out on the rock, he throws into his mouth the head with its jaw opening convulsively, he crunches it, the lizard's teeth crack under his teeth; Kment licks the tip of his fingers, he looks round, sees lizards running on the rock, disappear in the holes of the cliff, he stretches his hand out, catches two lizards, squeezes them in his fist and eats them, tail and head, belly and belly, tail and head, his lips are covered with little scales and little teeth, the remains of the legs prick his throat; above him the grass on the cliff is on fire; Kment rises, wipes his wet hand on his hip and dances, the smoke and the scent of grass drying the sweat on his body, he dances, his feet bare, grazed, burned on the rock, he throws his arms above his head, beats his hips, sticks out his belly, hollows it, the rags covering him, slide, get undone, fall along his thighs, he throws back over his shoulders his hair full of itchings, flies vibrate in his ears, his knees, the muscles of his neck crack, dribble runs down his chin; head tilted backwards, oily, black hair brushing the top of his back, he lowers himself, belly convulsed, thighs opening, knees parted, heels joined; his buttocks touch his heels, weigh upon them; he throws both his hands between the knees, closes his fists, presses them against the rock, his toes, reddened, curl up, nails scraping the rock; he drops on his right shoulder, he rolls on the side, the rock's fire seizes him, from feet to nape, he crosses his wrists under the nape, he stretches his legs, the shreds of lizards swarm in his intestines, he opens his dry eyes, he widens them with his fingers, turns them towards the sun and holds them open until he gets dazzled; then he shuts them over the tears and can go to sleep, temple and ear against the burning and sharp rock.
 
-Emilienne supports Serge: the boy passed his arms around her shoulders, his
-crutch makes holes in the wet sand.
+Emilienne supports Serge: the boy passed his arms around her shoulders, his crutch makes holes in the wet sand.
 
 --- You don't think we risk a stray bullet or a grenade?
 
@@ -3892,8 +3913,7 @@ A child starts to unfasten the bandages around Serge's knee.
 
 --- They want your blood.
 
-At the cave's mouth, a child is striking a dead octopus, with a stone; he strikes, steps back, growls, strikes again, steps back, strides over the octopus, spits at it, sits down on the twitching flesh, blows, pulls a tentacle between his
-thighs, holds it against his wrist, drives it inside his nostrils.
+At the cave's mouth, a child is striking a dead octopus, with a stone; he strikes, steps back, growls, strikes again, steps back, strides over the octopus, spits at it, sits down on the twitching flesh, blows, pulls a tentacle between his thighs, holds it against his wrist, drives it inside his nostrils.
 
 --- For three days and three nights, you have been lying in wait for me, hidden in your puddle, buried under the sand, only your big eyes sticking out like bubbles. You ate my father, my mother, and you wanted to devour me. You, my mother, who escaped all the way to the stars, see, I killed your enemy, the one who seduces my father, bewitches him, clings to his neck, to his waist and steels his pay from him. My mother who escaped all the way to the stars, come down and wash my face, wring the facecloth inside my ears. Your little ones chased from their father's bed, banished, whipped by the octopus, were imploring you, at night, their teeth were chattering, their knees covered with dried blood, kneeling in the manure. O mother, come down, so that I can sit on your belly, your hands holding my hips. Men look at me on the street, gold shines in their hands. O mother, come and take us. See my squashed foot: a jeep, at night, knocked me down, the soldiers are laughing, they're gobbling up black grapes; the lieutenant grips the gear stick between his thighs, the soldiers tap on his shoulders, I scream, writhing on the sand, my foot caught under the wheel. The lieutenant orders the driver to stop, the soldiers to get off and lift the jeep, the driver moves back, I scream, the soldiers jump in the jeep, my bones crack.
 
@@ -4121,7 +4141,7 @@ But the smell of chocolate rises to my lips, and his eyes close and his hand qui
 
 --- Leave me alone, Draga.
 
-But the boy grips her more tightly, his fingers plunging deep under the young girl's breasts: 
+But the boy grips her more tightly, his fingers plunging deep under the young girl's breasts:
 
 --- Kment too used to eat at Madame Lulu's.
 
@@ -4149,7 +4169,7 @@ The girl raises herself up on her elbows but Draga holds her on the ground, he w
 
 --- Let me go, I don't desire you any more. Go away. Let me hide in the shade. Go, dry yourself in the sun, while the soldiers shoot my mother on the road.
 
-The boy's fingers cling to the girl's mop then to her cunt,
+The boy's fingers cling to the girl's mop then to her cunt,\sic
 
 --- You're mine. I will tear, burn all the linen and tie up your hands, and I will carry you away to paint you and deliver you to men, women, beasts. I get up, I set fire to the linen. I paint your cunt blue. Gold and silver flow in my hands, banknotes swell my underpants, the printer's ink melts on my thigh.
 
@@ -4251,7 +4271,7 @@ He has a knife under the armpit, he's allowed to, as for me I've got a knife hid
 
 --- I'll fetch the recruiters.
 
-Mother Lulu walks out, the recruiters come up, heavy, yawning, with their whips, their knives and their pistols, they come into the room, prick the sleepers' buttocks or chest, with the point of their knives, whip the laughers, they notice Ism\`{e}ne, they whip me, I crawl under the mattress, a recruiter pushes the boys aside, he strikes a match and throws it on the straw mattress, with one hand he grabs Ism\`{e}ne by the waist, draws her to him by the breast, and bites her mouth; the mattress is ablaze, I come out from under the mattress, I throw myself on the recruiter: 
+Mother Lulu walks out, the recruiters come up, heavy, yawning, with their whips, their knives and their pistols, they come into the room, prick the sleepers' buttocks or chest, with the point of their knives, whip the laughers, they notice Ism\`{e}ne, they whip me, I crawl under the mattress, a recruiter pushes the boys aside, he strikes a match and throws it on the straw mattress, with one hand he grabs Ism\`{e}ne by the waist, draws her to him by the breast, and bites her mouth; the mattress is ablaze, I come out from under the mattress, I throw myself on the recruiter:
 
 --- Leave her alone, she's my friend.
 
@@ -4287,7 +4307,7 @@ She tucks up her dress, her belly is bare, her little labia open up between her
 
 --- You see these little lips? Put your willy in there. You'll see how nice it feels.
 
-I climb on her knees, the smell of grilled meat comes from the kitchen, Madame Lulu takes my cock, she rubs it against her little labia, she gently drives it in and don't feel anything any more, it's water, I'm swivelling on water; Madame Lulu wanks me, my head rolls on my shoulder, my father I lick my blood on your knees: 
+I climb on her knees, the smell of grilled meat comes from the kitchen, Madame Lulu takes my cock, she rubs it against her little labia, she gently drives it in and don't feel anything any more, it's water, I'm swivelling on water; Madame Lulu wanks me, my head rolls on my shoulder, my father I lick my blood on your knees:
 
 {\sloppy --- Go and sit by the gentleman, over there, and say to him: \speech{Drink, sir, drink.} \par}
 
@@ -4295,13 +4315,7 @@ Night has fallen, the door lamp lights up the road works and the roadmen's carav
 
 --- Drink, love many men, give your arms, your legs, your lips. Pretend you're dead. Madame Lulu watches the customers' fingers, she'll pull them off your neck if they press it.
 
-\ldots\ In the middle of the night, the soaked underpants flap on the boys'
-bellies; the foot of the table is between my thighs, the men come and go between
-the caravans and the brothel!; my shoulder bears the burn from a worker's lantern
-; my fingers brush my chest, they glide on the sperm; I'm scintillating, the darkest
-hollows in my body are scintillating; a man, kneeling in front of me is daubing his
-face with my soaked underpants; Draga inside the room, his mouth is black, open
-under the captain's gleaming cock, a grasshopper is climbing along the towel rail:
+\ldots\ In the middle of the night, the soaked underpants flap on the boys' bellies; the foot of the table is between my thighs, the men come and go between the caravans and the brothel!; my shoulder bears the burn from a worker's lantern ; my fingers brush my chest, they glide on the sperm; I'm scintillating, the darkest hollows in my body are scintillating; a man, kneeling in front of me is daubing his face with my soaked underpants; Draga inside the room, his mouth is black, open under the captain's gleaming cock, a grasshopper is climbing along the towel rail:
 
 --- I've come to fetch clean sheets.
 
@@ -4486,7 +4500,7 @@ The soldiers lean on the wall again, the boy stiffens his legs, --- the dog laid
 
 The soldiers grab the dog by the breast; one of them pulls out of his battledress pocket a piece of fresh meat, which has stuck the cloth at the knee, he places it in front of the dog's fangs, the fangs vibrate on the boy's back, the dog smells the meat, it raises its head, the soldier steps back, the dog throws its fangs forward, the soldier moves further back, the dog tears itself away from the boy, brutal, chafing his hips with its claws, it throws itself on the piece of meat, it snatches it, it drags it, in the dust, shakes it, tramples it, tears it, on the boy's foot.
 
-Petrilion, his hands still warm and crumpled, his cock softened and burnt, his lips, his eyelids gluey, remains lying on the ground; the soldiers tie up the dog again, they take him out of the cellar, they make him climb the ladder, the dog growls, his fangs vibrate against the soldiers' eyebrows; they go out into the garden, the dog sniffs at the ground, it leaps, it yaps, it sniffs its coat around the asshole, its muzzle, sparkling in the moonlight; its cock drips under the belly; inside the cellar, Petrilion, sprawled on the canvas, eyes shut, shivers in the cool of the black earth; men and women get up from the chairs, they bend over the child, they observe his blackened body, gluey, battered, bloody, they bend over, they touch, with the tip of the fingers, the cock, little wet ember, in the tuft of black down; a woman squats down, kisses the boy's bloody foot; Petrilion doesn't move, his whole body is trembling; Draga, once the men and women have left, squats down; the recruiter goes up to the garden, closes the fence, takes Petrilion's hand, lifts him under the shoulders, unsticks his eyelids, he unlaces the underpants, on the right hip, the cock sticks to the cloth, Draga pulls the cloth, gently unsticks the cock, the boy opens his eyes, groans; Draga strokes, tenderly, Petrilion's gluey belly, he pulls off the pants in one go, he throws them on the tent canvas, Petrilion picks it up, he holds it out to Draga, Draga unfolds it, holds the slits, he shakes it above Draga's eyes: 
+Petrilion, his hands still warm and crumpled, his cock softened and burnt, his lips, his eyelids gluey, remains lying on the ground; the soldiers tie up the dog again, they take him out of the cellar, they make him climb the ladder, the dog growls, his fangs vibrate against the soldiers' eyebrows; they go out into the garden, the dog sniffs at the ground, it leaps, it yaps, it sniffs its coat around the asshole, its muzzle, sparkling in the moonlight; its cock drips under the belly; inside the cellar, Petrilion, sprawled on the canvas, eyes shut, shivers in the cool of the black earth; men and women get up from the chairs, they bend over the child, they observe his blackened body, gluey, battered, bloody, they bend over, they touch, with the tip of the fingers, the cock, little wet ember, in the tuft of black down; a woman squats down, kisses the boy's bloody foot; Petrilion doesn't move, his whole body is trembling; Draga, once the men and women have left, squats down; the recruiter goes up to the garden, closes the fence, takes Petrilion's hand, lifts him under the shoulders, unsticks his eyelids, he unlaces the underpants, on the right hip, the cock sticks to the cloth, Draga pulls the cloth, gently unsticks the cock, the boy opens his eyes, groans; Draga strokes, tenderly, Petrilion's gluey belly, he pulls off the pants in one go, he throws them on the tent canvas, Petrilion picks it up, he holds it out to Draga, Draga unfolds it, holds the slits, he shakes it above Draga's eyes:
 
 --- See how much it has loved you.
 
@@ -4554,13 +4568,14 @@ A few men, with hard-ons, wander around the brothel, hoist themselves up to the
 
 On the surface of the sea, trails of light cross one another at the spot on the horizon where the sun has set; solitary birds dive, pluck the small fish asleep on the tufts of seaweed or fascinated by the anemones' phosphorescent heart.
 
-%\chapter{Fifth Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Fifth Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 
 \includegraphics{img/fifth}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 Thivai wakes up before the brothel shuts its lights out at dawn; he gets out of the sleeping bag; cocks crow on the top of the hill, under the highest watchtower: the Eiffel tower; between the bars of the small basement window, their red combs jump among the heavy grass; the sentry climbs down the ladder, his rifle clinks against the protection sheet; Thivai lies back again on the sleeping bag, the tall wet trees pour their dew on the red roof of the command post. Thivai feels a lump in his throat, he covers his belly with his hands. Sun flashes through the basement window, dazzles the boy:
 
@@ -4604,7 +4619,7 @@ Wind closes the books on the table, makes the pencils roll, I kiss her mouth thr
 
 --- Don't hug me too tight, Thivai, you'll break my back.
 
-I crawl over her, her hands are kneading the shorts on my buttocks, her fingers roll the hem;
+I crawl over her, her hands are kneading the shorts on my buttocks, her fingers roll the hem;\sic
 
 --- You're wearing your swimsuit, I can feel it. It's wet.
 
@@ -4862,6 +4877,7 @@ She screams, a breath of wild mint, from the ditch where the shepherd is singing
 --- She's feeling cold, perhaps\ldots\ and that smell of blood, those cries\ldots
 
 \ldots\ A boy takes the young girl's head on his chest, he strokes it, he kisses the hair wet with cold sweat; the car dashes forward through the wheat's prickly dust; at the river bank, it stops, the boys open the boot, pull me out, me screaming, crying, they throw me on the road; the fresh air, the spray, the scent of rotten wheat, choke, wet my cry; in the morning, body smeared with dew and bird droppings, torso and legs covered with trails of worms and slugs, I get up, I drag myself along, I fall, I crawl towards the river, waders walk along the surf, I sleep all day in the sludge; in the evening, ravenous, I lie in wait for the waders, I look for the frailest, I see him, I grab its leg, I snap it with one single twist of the wrist, I lay the bird on the sludge, I strangle it, its legs, its beak claw my skull, I tear away the feathers from the neck and breast, the down blinds my eyes, I draw the breast to my mouth and I bite it, I tear it; the sludge, stirred, swallows blood and feathers, my mouth, my nostrils, my whole face plunges in the slashed flesh; at the end, in the bloody darkness, the heart is beating, I see it beat with my blood-shot eyes, I bite it, it beats against my teeth, I pierce it, blood gushes out under my tongue; flesh makes a grinding sound between my teeth; the bird's head jumps in the sludge, the beak cracks, the eyes mist over; I fall asleep, my head buried in the warm blood. In the morning, I tear the ring from my lip, I throw it with the piece of flesh it encircled, in the river, a soaring wader dives, swallows the ring; I wash myself in the river, the wound on my lip burns like an ember; lying in the ditch, warmed up by the breath of the wheat, I drink my blood\ldots
+
 The general comes for the third time, he sets Thivai on his feet again, he makes him lie on the camp bed, he strokes him.
 
 --- \speech{I free V\'eronique and Xaintrailles, they tear off their ring. I enter the civilian post office, I sleep in the small room on the other side of the harbour, I enter the civilian post office, I grab Bi\'etrix by the waist, she kisses my mutilated lip, every evening she bathes it with soft herbs, she picks for me some fine shells, I am lying in wax and starch, she comes back, she uncovers my cock, she bandages it with a wet piece of linen, she fondles my balls, I eat the plate of shells, they're fuming. Bi\'etrix supports me by the shoulders; when we kiss, our wounds touch each other, tears flow from our eyes, at night she lies next to me, she puts me to sleep with her fresh caresses, she opens my pyjamas, her fingers unfasten the bandage around my cock; her breasts tremble like milk in the shadow of the sheets, I touch them, I lay my scented lips on them, my nostrils linger between the breasts, my tongue comes out of my mouth, licks the down, flattens it, my saliva bubbles on the nipple, my teeth pinch it, my lips suck the edge; my saliva streams on the breast, Bi\'etrix's hand lifts it towards my mouth that takes it again: my body rolls on you, the wet linen covers my cock and separates it from your cunt, you croon under me, I rub your little frozen feet between my hands; in the middle of the night, I do not know you yet, and you haven't opened your eyes; the harbour lights slide on my back, on your breasts, when I withdraw on your knees; I uncover your cunt, I throw the linen at the end of the bed, I kiss the warm swell of your cunt, I blow on it my breath of son of the wind, you groan, you spread your thighs and between them I plunge my free man's growing hair, they squeeze my cheeks, on my eyes rises the acid freshness of your cunt-juice that wets the lips of your little buried secret mouth; I laugh, each time my nostrils brush the curly tufts of your hair. Bi\'etrix, Bi\'etrix, Bi\'etrix, pull out the cry from my throat, knead my heart, love me, so that I scream at last, so that men can hear my cry and no more will I be alone or the deserted sea or the pebble.
@@ -4874,8 +4890,7 @@ Thivai springs to his feet, he hides in the cellar's darkest corner, he tries to
 
 --- We want to see Thivai, let us in.
 
-The sergeant opens the door and the gate, they dash into the cellar, Thivai runs along the wall, he disappears behind the shelves, the commandos ransack the camp bed, dust flies around, raised, falls back on their shoulders; a commando, stripped to the waist, his small chain shaken on the chest hair, drives his arm behind the rack, grabs Thivai's leg, he pulls it; Thivai climbs up the shelves, throws his leg in the face of the commando, who catches it with both hands, and holds it between his teeth; Thivai bites his cry, the other commandos suspend themselves to the shelves and topple them over; the sergeant, sprawled on the slashed bed, tries to get up again; his bloody mouth, is moving; blood smacks inside his mouth, the shelves crumble, Thivai appears in the dust, naked,
-head shaved, between his thighs, the dark hair of the penis.
+The sergeant opens the door and the gate, they dash into the cellar, Thivai runs along the wall, he disappears behind the shelves, the commandos ransack the camp bed, dust flies around, raised, falls back on their shoulders; a commando, stripped to the waist, his small chain shaken on the chest hair, drives his arm behind the rack, grabs Thivai's leg, he pulls it; Thivai climbs up the shelves, throws his leg in the face of the commando, who catches it with both hands, and holds it between his teeth; Thivai bites his cry, the other commandos suspend themselves to the shelves and topple them over; the sergeant, sprawled on the slashed bed, tries to get up again; his bloody mouth, is moving; blood smacks inside his mouth, the shelves crumble, Thivai appears in the dust, naked, head shaved, between his thighs, the dark hair of the penis.
 
 The commandos pull out their knives; Virido takes a fork from his belt --- the soldiers keep fork and spoon in their pockets or belt --- Thivai tilts his head against the wall, he thrusts his arms between his thighs, his entire body vibrates in the dust; knives clink in the wet hands; Virido steps forward, he grabs Thivai by the neck, he spits in his face, he presses on his shoulders, Thivai bends, he falls on his knees, his hands protect his chest, Virido grabs his head by the sides of the throat, tilts it backwards, holds out the fork, rubs it on the stretched throat, Thivai:
 
@@ -4935,9 +4950,7 @@ Often the soldiers drinking in the brothels, in the evening, place themselves on
 
 The military police jeeps brake, truncheon blows, rifle butt blows, the soldiers are overpowered, thrown inside the jeeps; boys and girls get up again, battered, bloody; they huddle together in the cars, they go to Talbot's place, or Saint-Gall's, where the maidservants wash them, nurse them, cut their hair, sew up their clothes, far into the night; half-naked, chest spattered with disinfectant, they sit on the beds or sprawl on them; Saint-Gall, wearing only white cotton underpants, is dozing, lying on the side, legs folded against the belly.
 
-Fabienne lies down next to the boy, her hand strokes the hip, the hem of
-the pants, the buttock, the folds beneath the cock; Saint-Gall opens an eye, he
-turns over, rolls on Fabienne:
+Fabienne lies down next to the boy, her hand strokes the hip, the hem of the pants, the buttock, the folds beneath the cock; Saint-Gall opens an eye, he turns over, rolls on Fabienne:
 
 --- Now that Audry has left for El\"{o}, you caress me.
 
@@ -5389,13 +5402,13 @@ He gets up, he puts on his clothes again, he combs in front of the makeup-spatte
 
 --- By the end of Winter, I shall be free.
 
-Her lips taste of flower and wind, with my thighs and my knees, I lift her legs; blood sticks her nipples to mine, she crawls on my chest, her head rolls behind my head, her hips cover my breasts, my cock springs up between her buttocks, I hold out my arm, take my cock, I fold it against her crack, and I pull; my opened cock, wets her navel; my turned up cock, cracks, I let it go, softened it rolls on my thigh. 
+Her lips taste of flower and wind, with my thighs and my knees, I lift her legs; blood sticks her nipples to mine, she crawls on my chest, her head rolls behind my head, her hips cover my breasts, my cock springs up between her buttocks, I hold out my arm, take my cock, I fold it against her crack, and I pull; my opened cock, wets her navel; my turned up cock, cracks, I let it go, softened it rolls on my thigh.
 
 --- Who, so well, taught you how to love?
 
 ---- My mother. And my father, to my sister.
 
-{\sloppy I take the head of Antigone, unhappy, her mouth filled with burning-hot sperm first thing in the morning and her feet crushed under the boots; the buttons, the badges, the teeth, the nails graze your nipples; your eyelids swollen with saliva, your eyes splashed with wine; the fangs, the nails, the points of the bones, and of the muscles, vibrate, run on your skin. Your price? your thighs parted by the Madam's steady hand, your lips tucked up, your teeth knocked by the crier's hammer. Your price? your price? \par}
+{\sloppy I take the head of Antigone, unhappy, her mouth filled with burning-hot sperm first thing in the morning and her feet crushed under the boots; the buttons, the badges, the teeth, the nails graze your nipples; your eyelids swollen with saliva, your eyes splashed with wine; the fangs, the nails, the points of the bones, and of the muscles, vibrate, run on your skin. Your price? your thighs parted by the Madam's steady hand, your lips tucked up, your teeth knocked by the crier's hammer. Your price? your price?\par}
 
 She weeps against my neck. Gal, drunk, his mouth full of cake, his shorts unbuttoned, his shirt wet with sweat, with tears of laughter, pushes the door, he plunges his head in the washbasin, he vomits, his shorts down on the middle of the buttocks\ldots
 
@@ -5407,18 +5420,19 @@ A seagull rocks and cries on a floating mass of seaweed.
 
 %\chapter{Sixth Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Sixth Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 
 \includegraphics{img/sixth}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 Xaintrailles sets for the following day the beginning of operation Ecbatane, named after the city in the home country, where most of the soldiers were born, where Xaintrailles and Thivai, when slaves, aroused the body and the heart of many men and women, where political chiefs, military and clergy men quarrel casually and leisurely and fight over a selfish youth.
 
 The trucks are loaded, Pino appointed chief cook as a favour from Xaintrailles, the armouries almost completely emptied, the infirmary fortified, the palaces strengthened with palisades, the archbishop's palace packed with sentries, the cardinal himself taught by a sergeant the use of a sten gun.
 
-Xaintrailles, in the evening, visits the soldiers in their barrackrooms, Winnetou goes with him, the soldiers, sitting on their straw mattresses, silent, a lump in the throat, write on their knees short letters to their fianc\'ees, note down the inventory of their possessions, on the back of those letters. Xaintrailles gathers the letters, has them taken to the garrison's strongbox; the secretaries will
-keep watch over them.
+Xaintrailles, in the evening, visits the soldiers in their barrackrooms, Winnetou goes with him, the soldiers, sitting on their straw mattresses, silent, a lump in the throat, write on their knees short letters to their fianc\'ees, note down the inventory of their possessions, on the back of those letters. Xaintrailles gathers the letters, has them taken to the garrison's strongbox; the secretaries will keep watch over them.
 
 A few soldiers look up towards Xaintrailles, stare at his throat:
 
@@ -5616,7 +5630,7 @@ In the livingroom, Xaintrailles waits for farmer Talbot:
 
 \begin{quotation}
 	\itshape
-Risen from the mud, from the bed of infamy, we march towards you, Pho\"{\i}bos. Open up our brows, dry our thighs. Arm our wrists, tear the sea, turn our feet into children's feet. Smoke our injuries, kiss our wounds. And let the heavy helmet protect the fruit of our bloody thighs, ours, the dead, knocked over at the edge of the abyss, feet crushed under the stone.
+Risen from the mud, from the bed of infamy, we march towards you, Pho\"\i bos. Open up our brows, dry our thighs. Arm our wrists, tear the sea, turn our feet into children's feet. Smoke our injuries, kiss our wounds. And let the heavy helmet protect the fruit of our bloody thighs, ours, the dead, knocked over at the edge of the abyss, feet crushed under the stone.
 \end{quotation}
 
 \bigbreak
@@ -5789,7 +5803,7 @@ Saint-Gall sits down before the desk, with its flap shining in the moonlight, he
 
 Saint-Gall folds the paper, he thrusts it in his pocket, he leaves the room; in the stairs, the body, which he forgot, makes him fall, his chin hits the marble step, his broken teeth, he spits them out with the blood, he goes down into the gardens, he strokes the top of the boxtrees, bends over a large flower: \speech{a lily} and drinks the dew from the shivering petals. At dawn, he runs, between the hotel's brambles, he goes up into the central wing; all the boys and all the girls lie with their throat slit open, on the spot where they fought; Saint-Gall chokes, he walks on tiptoe between the toppled bodies, kneeling, their face turned towards dawn and moist with dew, on their foreheads, on their intact clothes mixed with blood. Saint-Gall does not dare touch these motionless heads, these eyelids open on eyes still fresh, these livid lips, their hair alone touched and twisted by the hand of the slaughterers; Saint-Gall goes down again, gets on his motorbike, returns to Inamenas, the motorbike moves forward over heaps of naked and torn bodies; the dogs, which are lifting them, growl, leap at Saint-Gall's bare legs, his shoulders are frozen, blood sticks his nipples to his shirt soaked with dew and sweat; monkeys, come down from the mountain, as in the time of epidemics, wander in groups through the alleys, hair wet and gilded by dawn; on their hands, ribbons, tufts of woman's hair, they move aside before the motorbike, hold out their arms, their claws brush Saint-Gall's shoulders; they shake their head, the sun pounces on Saint-Gall, the saddle and the petrol tank burn his thighs and his cock crushed under the light shorts; Saint-Gall stops his motorbike, strokes the heads of the cooing monkeys, then, he throws his bike forward, the wheel squashes the paw of one monkey, who raises his fist, takes its paws in its hands, parts the fingers, rubs the phalanx, lays the paw on the ground again, shouts, waves its hands against its cheeks, takes its paw again, sits down back to the wall, licks the underside of its paw; Saint-Gall stops the motorbike in front of the house; in the garden, the flowers, the shrubs are burnt; on the entrance steps, his father's naked body, throat slit open, head folded under the shoulders, legs caught in the balustrade's rose trees, penis curled up on the lower abdomen; Saint-Gall lets go of the motorbike, he bends over, he lifts the shoulders, takes the head, drags the corpse to the top of the steps, lays the head in the ravaged livingroom, on the flap of a desk, he lies down on the white bear fur, rolls on the side, falls asleep.
 
-B\'eja, lying on Serge's bed, guarded by ten rebels, awakens, he gets up, removes his clothes, takes a shower, shaves with Serge's razor, combs himself with his comb; he goes round the room, his hand on the window ledge, strokes the Virginian creeper; on the bookcase, topples all the books, all the records, the record player is on, B\'eja moves the pickup arm, twists it, pulls it off, throws it under his shoe and crushes it. Then, he gets down into the garden, goes and sits on a marble bench looking down upon the city and the harbour, his guards follow him. He sees the streets, the deserted avenues, opened on the sea, a few children only are bathing in the blue water then, with their swimming trunks wet, squat down on the rocks under the jetty, pull out crabs, hold each other's hand, in the crevices. 
+B\'eja, lying on Serge's bed, guarded by ten rebels, awakens, he gets up, removes his clothes, takes a shower, shaves with Serge's razor, combs himself with his comb; he goes round the room, his hand on the window ledge, strokes the Virginian creeper; on the bookcase, topples all the books, all the records, the record player is on, B\'eja moves the pickup arm, twists it, pulls it off, throws it under his shoe and crushes it. Then, he gets down into the garden, goes and sits on a marble bench looking down upon the city and the harbour, his guards follow him. He sees the streets, the deserted avenues, opened on the sea, a few children only are bathing in the blue water then, with their swimming trunks wet, squat down on the rocks under the jetty, pull out crabs, hold each other's hand, in the crevices.
 
 B\'eja looks round, his gaze falls on the slums; the alleys flooded with sun and dew, fill with shadows of monkeys and men; but, not a single voice among that tumult of footsteps, leaps, matings; a rebel bends over B\'eja:
 
@@ -5925,7 +5939,7 @@ Towards the evening, covered with spittle, blood, urine, the cardinal straighten
 
 --- Enough. I'm a negro. I have no gold. Enough of this white skin, I'm a negro. I was, with you. I surrender.
 
---- He wants to be king. Let's kill him, B\'eja
+--- He wants to be king. Let's kill him, B\'eja.
 
 --- I'm a negro. I'm a negro. I am free. Negro.
 
@@ -5935,13 +5949,11 @@ And, throwing themselves on him, they flay him.
 
 At night, looting is done by torchlight. The power stations all exploded during the bombing; hangings, carpets catch fire. In the cathedral, the looters, climbing on step ladders, put on the emergency light, gas explodes in the rebels' face, women wrap themselves up in the chasubles, chase each other between the pillars, spit on the tabernacle. Couples embrace on the altar; others, on the organ's high manual. Groups of children, squatting around the ciboriums, are gobbling up hosts. Already, food is running low; new-born children, abandoned in the lower city houses by their mothers gone up to loot, die, under the rats' sharp gaze. A child makes a large host roll on the paving stones, like a hoop; another, squatting on a pomp ciborium, drops his turds. A man embraces a wooden statue of the virgin, he cleaves the statue with his dagger at the place of the cunt, he throws himself forward, his teeth nibble the cheeks and the faded lips, he pulls out his cock, gives it a wank and sinks half of it into the slit. A street musician, sitting in the pulpit, marks the rhythm of the matings with his drum. Already, a few rats, drawn by the smell of sperm and undernourished flesh, of the spilled wine and the grains stuck by blood to the looters' tatters, trot between the mating bodies, lick the sperm running from body to body and mixing, nibble hands opening up through the spasm, knees slackening; attack children asleep or sunk in dream and terror. Women made mad by the inebriation and the sight of gold, draw their own children against their bodies, open their thighs and, these children having penetrated them by force, they brain them or slit their throats before they could get up. One woman, eight months' pregnant is squatting in the light from a stained glass window, her skirts tucked up over her shit, a long black snake slips from under a confessional, as far as the heap of turds, raises its head, and plunges it between the woman's buttocks; she screams, she falls forehead against the paving stone; the snake digs, hisses, it penetrates as far as the intestines, it tears them, it injects its venom into the foetus, its head bores inside the flesh; the woman yells, the sweat from her forehead mixes, on the stone, with the foam falling from her lips; the snake withdraws its soiled head, it flees through the cloister's half-opened door, it crawls towards the pond of reddened water, dives, swims for a while between the slicks of blood; moves up again on the stone, warms itself up, flees again towards the small garden's fence where it stops and coils up between the shoes of a living man, entered, unknown, in Inamenas before the start of the looting, while the echo of the last explosion was fading away.
 
-Some rebels, hosts spitted on their cocks, chase the women, the statues
-they bump into, vibrate. Naked men search through the cupboards of the sacristy; dressed by women who, in the same time, caress them, masturbate them, they go up to the altar, pierce their own wrist with the dagger, suck up the blood, while the women tuck up their chasuble and make incense burn between their legs. A young rebel, his gilded chasuble stuck to his bloodstained nipples, motionless in a beam of light flowing from the stained glass, dreams, the sprinkled incense fuming along his thighs, he stares at the image of the crucified god, he holds out his arms, joins his feet, rolls his head over his shoulder. He dances. The palms, lifted for a moment by the panting of the bodies mating on the altar, veil the image of the god. The young rebel dances, caparisoned with gold and linen, the nails under his shoes chink in the sharp beams. At each turning round, he looks at the god, smiles to him, holds out his arms, tilts his head on the shoulder; the image of the god, veiled by shadows and lights, comes to life, the young rebel goes up to the altar, still dancing, he holds out his arms but the living man dashes out of the small garden and takes his throat and knocks him down on the altar steps, and, pulling a girl from under a man bending over her, he drags her under the young rebel; then, grabbing the image of the god, he tears it up, he throws it in a fire blazing up at his feet. He strides along between the mating couples, he bends over, his hand brushes the bodies; those, under the stroke, tense up, blood seethes in their veins. The man returns to the small garden, squats down, speaks to the snake coiled up at his feet; the snake dashes on the burning pebbles, crawls between the clumps of shrubs; as it crawls by, the dew-covered flowers, the insects shrivel up, the pebbles lose their lustre; the snake steals again into the cathedral, pushing before him a tuft of flowered grass.
+Some rebels, hosts spitted on their cocks, chase the women, the statues they bump into, vibrate. Naked men search through the cupboards of the sacristy; dressed by women who, in the same time, caress them, masturbate them, they go up to the altar, pierce their own wrist with the dagger, suck up the blood, while the women tuck up their chasuble and make incense burn between their legs. A young rebel, his gilded chasuble stuck to his bloodstained nipples, motionless in a beam of light flowing from the stained glass, dreams, the sprinkled incense fuming along his thighs, he stares at the image of the crucified god, he holds out his arms, joins his feet, rolls his head over his shoulder. He dances. The palms, lifted for a moment by the panting of the bodies mating on the altar, veil the image of the god. The young rebel dances, caparisoned with gold and linen, the nails under his shoes chink in the sharp beams. At each turning round, he looks at the god, smiles to him, holds out his arms, tilts his head on the shoulder; the image of the god, veiled by shadows and lights, comes to life, the young rebel goes up to the altar, still dancing, he holds out his arms but the living man dashes out of the small garden and takes his throat and knocks him down on the altar steps, and, pulling a girl from under a man bending over her, he drags her under the young rebel; then, grabbing the image of the god, he tears it up, he throws it in a fire blazing up at his feet. He strides along between the mating couples, he bends over, his hand brushes the bodies; those, under the stroke, tense up, blood seethes in their veins. The man returns to the small garden, squats down, speaks to the snake coiled up at his feet; the snake dashes on the burning pebbles, crawls between the clumps of shrubs; as it crawls by, the dew-covered flowers, the insects shrivel up, the pebbles lose their lustre; the snake steals again into the cathedral, pushing before him a tuft of flowered grass.
 
 A wave runs along the island of Lannilis, it rises inside the creeks, it drowns the wheat on the low headlands, it splashes, it covers up the capes; it comes together; flown over by a tepid spray, it rolls towards Inamenas harbour; it bursts the pier, smashes the charred wrecks, blackens, throws the boats against the jetty.
 
-Kment, in the cathedral, is looking for Giauhare; prostrate women cling to his knees; pull at his penis; a blue beam of light bathes his forehead, a woman tears off from him the shreds of a loincloth girding his thighs, he steps over the bodies at the sacristy door; a rebel is hugging Giauhare against the dresser; she screams; he, the rebel, girded with liturgical pieces of cloth, the muscles of his leg quivering, his left hand leaning on the tapestry soiled with melted wax, growls, his right hand holding his cock and tucking up Giauhare's wet dress; Kment strikes him in the back with his fist, the naked rebel collapses at his feet, the gilded stole covering his cock; he has no more lips; Kment looks at Giauhare, a rat comes out
-of her mouth:
+Kment, in the cathedral, is looking for Giauhare; prostrate women cling to his knees; pull at his penis; a blue beam of light bathes his forehead, a woman tears off from him the shreds of a loincloth girding his thighs, he steps over the bodies at the sacristy door; a rebel is hugging Giauhare against the dresser; she screams; he, the rebel, girded with liturgical pieces of cloth, the muscles of his leg quivering, his left hand leaning on the tapestry soiled with melted wax, growls, his right hand holding his cock and tucking up Giauhare's wet dress; Kment strikes him in the back with his fist, the naked rebel collapses at his feet, the gilded stole covering his cock; he has no more lips; Kment looks at Giauhare, a rat comes out of her mouth:
 
 --- Do not kiss me, the rat has just come out. O Kment, the water is rising in the city. Let's run away. The streets are getting filled with starving snakes, they hunt the rats, this one had taken refuge in my mouth, he bit this man's lips. Listen to the hissing of the snakes at the bottom of the walls. Their eyes see the women's bellies, they eat the pregnant women's bellies. Don't look back.
 
@@ -5955,23 +5967,19 @@ Kment runs in the upper city, his bare feet sink in the bloody sludge pouring ou
 
 --- A child is moving within me since this morning: Touch. The last-born of the world, and a rat made it.
 
-% \chapter{Seventh Song}
 \clearpage
+\song{Seventh Song}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
-\vskip 4em
+\null\vskip 4em
 \includegraphics{img/seventh}
 \includegraphics{img/song}
+\vskip 4em
 
 The waters are covering the archipelago; the top of the mountains emerges alone from a whirlpool of mud, of stones, of branches, of tools, of axles, of cartridge magazines, of tyres, of plane carcasses, of knives. A glaring sunshine hammers the waters. The slaves' rock looms up from a red whirlwind in which two half-track vehicles are banging against each other, filled with naked soldiers with their wounds washed. Charges, mines, grenades, bombs, still explode at the bottom of the water, lift it up, tear it. Then, in a space of time of one day and two nights, the waters retire as far as the ruins of Titov Veles. In the morning, clear waters, run through by sea currents, surround the rock covered with a thick and light mud; then, towards noon, retire again as far as the ruins of Titov Veles, washing the area thus exposed; during the night, beaches form at the limit of the retired waters. Until the first glimmers of dawn, an island takes shape, limited by what once was the stinking suburbs of Titov Veles and the Thilissi village.
 
 The trees bowing to the ground under the weight of mud, unbend, shoot out in the freed air; the springs, choked by the corpses of men and children made thirsty by the fire, squirt out in the dark, search for their ancient bed under the bent grass; then, having found it, dash forward, break with cries of joy, to the waterfalls, mix, get lost, flow away from each other, with laughter.
 
-In the first light, swarms of bees, squalling bird flights, swoop down on
-the island, shake the heavy flowers, the foliage, the crumpled tree tops, throw
-themselves in the dust, fly over the still dark valleys; the sky splashed with wild
-birds, blazing bees, unveils, turns towards the sun whose wound is drying and
-shrinking. The springs coil around the ruins, dig their new bed in what once was a
-temple's nave or the sewer of a slaves' prison.
+In the first light, swarms of bees, squalling bird flights, swoop down on the island, shake the heavy flowers, the foliage, the crumpled tree tops, throw themselves in the dust, fly over the still dark valleys; the sky splashed with wild birds, blazing bees, unveils, turns towards the sun whose wound is drying and shrinking. The springs coil around the ruins, dig their new bed in what once was a temple's nave or the sewer of a slaves' prison.
 
 On the rock, summit of the new island, mud rises; Kment, leaning on an elbow, straightens himself up, naked, the wounds of his forehead and knees washed, his hair swollen and glossy with mud, his lips red, his mouth filled with sludge; standing, arching his back, hands on his hips, he opens his eyes and looks round: then, squatting down, he searches in the mud with his hands, releases, lifts up Giauhare's body, which he hugs against him and kisses on the lips, on the shoulders and on the breasts. Giauhare wakes up, the silt runs out of her shut eyelids, in the folds of her ears; her cheeks swollen with sludge, Kment kisses them and taking Giauhare's lips between his, he sucks up that silt; thus they mix the sludge of their mouths, their original semen; thus, naked, frozen, they give each other life and sun inflames them and places them in its orbit, like two new planets. They rush forward, they dive in the jumble of flowers, foliage, birds and springs. Kment's hand on Giauhare's belly, and hers on the boy's chest; sun sparkles in their hair.
 
-- 
cgit v1.2.3

