We slither like snakes
Amongst the old weeping trees
At the same pace as wolves
We roam in the mist
Towards the congregation of the ancients
In the forest that watches and listens

Towards the bloody herb’s temple
We walk under the grey rain of fate
Where we can feel…
The majestic triumph of the forgotten black goddess

Like an aureole of our burning eyes
Like the old blood of the raven of the willows

Towards the bloody herb’s temple
We walk under the green incarnation
Where we can feel ….
The fear of sacrifice on the cold slab

Like the old blood of nature
Like the forgotten pagan tongue…