Diaphanous figure who silent rides death's wisdom

It's said you came when the weary sky was sinking

Into it's 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.