"The Resurrection of The Dead" by Pierre Jean Jouve

"Man's blood, and hope, and human memory
 From the black-tinged ingredients of space
 That Daniel's lion-den beneath the smouldering eye
 The blue hole of the heavenly throne 
  
 The great skies have been raised up like high walls
 The black of racks is outlined by the bluish sheen of steel
 The millions of the judgment called, like planets all too pale
 With memories of underneath the earth, go flying past

 And the harlot seated high upon the waters, and
 Downfallen, the great death poured from the cups
 And i have seen what blows the heavnly host endures
 And the white giant who has a dagger in his mouth

 I've seen the only liberty there is vanquished by death
 Beneath the swaddling-linen of the sky
 Bathed in the black blood of the cups and wounds
 When the great harlot of the waters had burst into flame

 I was a man; O now illumine my remains
 And grant my parden if I lived but for a Beast
 And if I was voluptuously in love with lovely Death.
 I was the poet: O illumine the whole.

And if thou wast not God I will establish still
On Nothing over Nothingness the soul's supremacy
For God not of the dead but of the living is the God
And no more can they die, the risen dead. "