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Diaphanous figure who silent rides death's wisdom |
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It's said you came when the weary sky was sinking |
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Into its eternal sleep |
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And that only your cry would have announced a new dawn |
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Mistress of the air shaking the fronds of icy hills |
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Who at dawn caresses the bare branches of foggy plains |
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You grew up as a lonely witness of existence's foolish theatre |
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On your visage the signs of a gloomy memory |
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Your lips wound false innocents' hearing |
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With painful truths and biting sentences |
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You knew the inner pleasure of senses |
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The poetry of wind, the secret of fire |
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Your will has the strength of thunder |
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Your spirit the impetus of the final fight |
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Oh great mother who lavishes love generating hate |
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Enchanting muse of unspeakable fancies |
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You will rise again from the ashes |
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Wrapping the great catastrophes |
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Pure, joyful and immortal Darkness and light will eternally |
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Follow you in the temple of the new dreams |
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In memory of Shadows' Madame. |
