the fresh humidity of the green moss wets my skin,
my body laying down, as it suits to who adores a god,
over the sacred stones of the Cromlec’h.
Our bodies clinging each other,
what is of the One [bad word] of the Many.

the incense smoke dances with the candles flames
attracting the celebrants astral energies.
The choral worshipping of the Black Goddess raises from our minds,
what is of the Many [bad word] of the One.

the sacred wine shall fill the cup which turned was in the goatish horn,
the fertile lips shall kiss the rod which life and shape took from the walnut

an the Nine [bad word] at the beginning of the dance
the naked feet shall caress Sheela Na Gog
the naked bodies moistened by wood’s breath
the naked minds dancing 
dancing in the air

and the shrewd spirits, by sacred fire 
inebriated shall turn to whirl

and once more the Great Spiral shall be Tregenda
one and seven to celebrate the thirteen fullnesses 
of Levanah

who of ancient memory 
made arcane 
magic mortal
Simple melodies by “Her Who guides” vibrated
enchantements of witches 
for millenniums hand down
bodies like veils 
fluttering to paint 
the Great Dance
offered to the sky 
as a tribute of the soul drag into oblivion

may I rejoin the stars, free my astral,
embrace Knowledge and in the All 
regenerate myself now beast now man,
till to reborn from the effluviums of my ethereal spirit God I Myself,
God among Gods,
deserving of my devotion and of my passion!
Sacrifical victim for those who [bad word] me
heir and part of the All