Eternal suffering.
Everlasting oblivion of tears falling into the dust.
I want to die.
But the three mothers don't grip my hand
they want the cycle to be completed.
I'm walking through this autumnal mist
where everything dies
and where everything's anguish and loneliness.
I mortify my heart with love's pain
and fall into the hollow deep abyss.
I'm alone in the dark
my being transfixed by a circle of shining souls
but their laments can nothing against frost
hate and the macabre veil winding my soul
in an obscure seal.
I would shed blood but something's hindering that to me
which dark force gives my spirit strength
thou condemned to wander in this mist thick as pain
I'm alone in Mater Tenebra.
Amen.
I enjoy this event.I son of darkness drink my tears
from the calix of the god who never forsakes
who turns defeat into victory.
I raise my hands up towards the northern icy wind
and to the nothing I yell.
Th at vision is mild and pure wrapped into the torments wind
I stretch out my hand but everything disappears
so I close the circle of fire once more
and I find myself again alone in the dark.
I celebrate the ancient names of this pagan winter
looking for lymph and power
for his soul now I've lost into emptiness.
Lost in Mater Tenebra.
Satan's masses mutate the weak.

I (myself) Esteban son of the dark side,
illuminated monarch of the abyss
(which is) forgotten by the divine light
I'm alive.
Ancient now inexistent laws,
which have been destroyed by you man,
prevented me from waking up.
I will come riding a black dragon
in delirium winds and anguish wings
purify the air 'cause I'm coming and sacrifice
to the big tree with fire and blood.

I Esteban promise...

Power and glory in the anarchy of evil
to you poor mortals unite in my magic circle
in a way without return swear in me voices in the wind
voices from a moan which fades in a delirium
like the weak dust settles on the ruins of the past.
Oh lost souls in the whirl of the infinite
Esteban is alive... and so is the legend...

Beyond the valley of the silence
along the paths of ancient knowledge
led from the dense odours of the wind.
You will find yourself in the holy wood
consecrated to the primordial gods.
Baptized with the dew around the oak of this Wiccian's mass
celebrated from the warbling of the crows, og great mother moon.
Ishtar, Astarte, Inanna, let me feed at your breast
let me celebrate the fertile union of the horned god
with the pure white goddess.
Follow the call of the wood.
Follow the voice of the god.

Celebrate in the Nemeton with red candles
and autumnal flowers on the stone altar.
Dress yourself with the sky in the magic circle
and purify yourself with the sacred incense of Cernunnos.

Bless me mother, 'cause I am your son.
Blessed be my eyes, therefore I can find your way.
Blessed be my nose, therefore I can breath your essence.
Blessed be my mouth, therefore I can talk about you.
Blessed be my chest, therefore I can be faithful to you.
Blessed be my ancestry, therefore I can give life to men and women.
as you gave life to the universe.
Blessed be my feet, therefore I can follow your way.

Let the last smoke disappear carried from the wind.
Rise your eyes full of astral energy
and look at the crow that will lead your return to silence.
Let the night fall down on you
as the death curtain falls down on life.

You'll be reborn...

(to be continued...)

What can wait forever isn't dead
and in the long run, even death dies.
The Ancient were, the Ancient are,
the Ancient will be.
They walked in this world,
after knowing the kingdom of stars,
and the stars will pre-announce their coming.
But bfore then the day of men will passed.
They'll descend through the door, they'll break the seals
and their claws will free
themselves from the ancient vice,
they'll find the way in the labyrinth of time
'cause for Yog-Sothoth time is only one thing.
So they'll go back and reign where they reigned once
and their oaths will contaminate the earth.
Oh, poor wretch you flatter yourself
that you exploit their immense strength
and their dirty power. Count the seasons
observe the sun and the stars
and when you have risen the stones
and implored their power
that will be the door through which
you can call them out of time and space.
So you will hear their terrible voices
you will see ever-burning malign flames
but you won't know the striking hand
and the destroying soul
'cause they come without a face
and men don't know their forms.
But be cautious in acting so that the tentacles of darkness
can't pentrate your soul
as the man who was too darling
lost his vital force
and chaos appeared to his mind.

I'm alone the night wind's blowing on my face
and the branches of the trees are crying
in the big empty of this night.
Step by step along the shadow path
the black cloak of darkness opens the door
in the place of eternal silence.
Wha strange emotions are striking my body
an obscure quiet is leading my mind
my hands are touching the wet trees
and the undergrowth is making my way blind among
the mossy stones in the realm of the dead.
The old ivy-mantled gate is creaking
while I am opening the door of the whisper crypt.
What a morbid force my soul has
a hidden god is leading my steps.
I am going down is this wet stairs in the stiffing dark
only the noise of a drop
of water is stressing the passing time
I'm alone in this sepulcro.
I humble being pieteously observe the men's fragilty.
Putrid bones put upon marble sacella
are waiting for nothing
while the cobwebs are covering the ancient effigies
everything's resting in a monumental silence here
everything is forgotten here.
I alone in this sepulcro will bring these relics
back to life with my profane action.
This is a sacred profanation
that will give life to death
the eternal life of memory.

Alone in this sepulcro.