Though the earth is cold,
I enter the place of the forbidden,
That lost Grove where my mothers and fathers blessed the ancient ones with the blood of the harvest.
The lore is lost, and the songs of the Bards have faded into the mist.
But I am them and they are me,
They fear us, and wet their pillows with dread of that day in which the snakes return to the land.
Diamonion 