Longing harmful of wizards,
Masters from all dimensions.
I want to find myself
In deepest memory.
Wide open the imagination of my art
Realistic illusions, save them for us,
Torment of the intuition is dark as we are.
"Clamando por la luz brillante que la noche ejerce,
El golpear de las olas hace la herida leve;
¿Cuántas más vendrán antes de partir?
Si cuando al final nos vayamos de aquí,
Solo nos llevaremos lo que trajimos: NADA... NADA..."
Witches behalf nuns, celebration of our art,
Farewell to the blind bigotry.
The path of the mystical sound
Is leading to the wistful land,
Hold that thought for us
As we invoke to the gods.
Natural gift is insane
Perhaps the illness is on the earth
Impending sea of wisdom, farewell to the blind mortals.
Longing harmful of wizards,
Maters from all dimensions.