Diaphanous figure who silent rides death's wisdom
 It's said you came when the weary sky was sinking
 into its eternal sleep
 And that only your cry would have announced a new dawn
 Mistress of the air shaking the fronds of icy hills
 who at dawn caresses the bare branches of foggy plains
 You grew up as a lonely witness of existence's foolish theatre
 On your visage the signs of a gloomy memory
 Your lips wound false innocents' hearing
 with painful [bad word] and biting sentences
 You knew the inner pleasure of senses
 the poetry of wind, the secret of fire
 Your will has the strength of thunder
 Your spirit the impetus of the final fight
 Oh great mother who lavishes love generating hate
 Enchanting muse of unspeakable fancies
 You will rise again from the ashes
 wrapping the great catastrophes
 Pure, joyful and immortal Darkness and light will eternally
 follow you in the temple of the new dreams
 In memory of Shadows' Madame.