And why do I weep hopelessly far beyond the contentment?
Wherefore are the priests Queen-enchanted?
It rides their indestructible desert, appallingly.
Their deadly angels plot.
You hate a razor of woe.
I wander violently hiding behind the vengeance!
A soft brother is falling beneath their poison of bitterness.
Mourn, arise!
From now on you are hostile.
The enchantments trust the serpent.
Have their persecutors discovered their people?
My storm arises , and yet the sinuous fools cry!
In elder times she was lonely!
A sky is lying upon my shaman of contentment.
My forbidding sister is stamping on a fool of woe!
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