Grandeur of the Self-Victored Soul

"I am the breath of Death…”
I am the noctiwhirlblast who shall gyve ye, mankind’s senate
My reveries shall emanate from these darksome weird
Palms, thy wit as a chalice shall saturate
With newborn lore it shall regenerate
Thee…

Ye subhuman chthonian bairn
My satrapy will nurture thee
Thou ne’er canst to vail
Thy sapience will be fathomless
And outsoar the astral wain
Barely by thy mental vitalized decree

“All thy deeds shall be the donaries
For my foreverness!”

My ghostly ascendancy over thee
Shall be aeonian, the fee
Is to receive the incorrigible infinity
Thou [bad word] the theurgic sorceries!

The winds and the waves shall obey…
“It’s my vow!”
Thy breath and the clouds shall swim till your hour!
Beneath thy wisest lour and scowl
Ye shall lord of beasts and fowls!

Beneath my wisest mow
Ye shall sailor on my prow!

Assume new shape in holy town
Of Gods where souls of men are sown
Beneath thy wisest lour and scowl
Ye shall lord of beasts and fowls!

Entreaty to the God of The Sun

“Мы молимся Солнцу,
Бессмертному Свету,
Чьи кони быстры.

И Солнце светит,
И Солнце греет,
Стоят божества
Все сотнями тысяч
И счастье вбирают
И счастье вручают,

Земле, данной Родом!..”

Perception of the Human Infirmity

I am the thought that travel in the maelstrom of facades
Passable through nine heavens in the trance
Voyager of other sides
Rower of the cosmic tides
Learned the ways to all the worlds
I am the mortal and the Shadow haunts 

Oh, She is real!
Death is near!
 [bad word] to me!

The wage for it is thy pent animae
All your good feelings
“Quit thee!”
But ye couldst snap this pain
If to [bad word] the desire to reign
And now ye shall moulder to dust
But neither to weep for you the brine!