Far-away echos [bad word] the dim lights of torches
 Old and mighty trees twine along the holy way of an ancient procession
 Simple but obscure songs are murmured in the deep arboreal temple
 Only two mighty blades shine in the reflection of fire
 From our [bad word] the old sages, each with his number and each carrying his ancestor's
 treasures
 Everything repeats as in an old prophecy marked by a vision donated by the Spirit of Nature
 And nothing is quiet in the dark heart of the forest
 It's inhabitants voices
 The breed of the trees and the men's mantra are part of a unique great ritual
 Nothing is quiet... nothing
 The four shining serpents slowly draw near to form a circle following the rhythm of
 Dark and [bad word] like the heartbeats of a huge dragon as he is drawing near
 Everything wheels in an alchemist dance, where the symbols will [bad word] laws preserved
 By a family of sages, the men of the oaks
 Four serpents united and became one circular serpents, just one in the ancient nemeton
 Where each man was near his stones and symbols
 Now, everything is silent in the large forest
 And even the magical lights of the flames seem to burn out in the silence
 In the circle of men and stones, only the oldest one begins to sing a new but terrible prophecy