In the grassy stone is carved,
The forbidden words of a chant,
And they can only be pronounced,
by those who hath never murdered.
The pure priestess walketh slowly,
Barefoot and dressed in a black robe;
She taketh the sharp dagger at the altar,
and riseth this sacred piece to the moon.
Embraced in blind vehemence and faith,
She singeth ancient chants to its grace.
The priestess and the Goddess became one,
And all her abysm and light as well.
In the grassy stone is well-carved,
The holy lost words of a secret chant;
Words that can only be sung or spoken,
by those who hath never betrayed.
The most scaly and viscous nectars,
From now on nourish her blood and soul;
All the forgotten spheres of knowledge,
Now belong to her, the devoted priestess.
Embraced in blind vehemence and faith,
She singeth ancient chants to its grace.
The priestess and the Goddess became one,
And all her abysm and light as well.