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