Catacombs, the bombs exploding—
Hell beneath, the foe confined.
Like a lubok, fear corroding,
Clots of madness choke the mind.

Bosch’s visions turn to breathing,
All around—a living curse.
In the veins of some, blood's freezing,
While for others—lice are worse.

New Bosch paints a demon gloating,
Lice grotesque beneath its claw.
Fools and beasts—lines lost, eroding:
Darkness reigns instead of law.