The Mirrors tremble by the winds,
the beginning of the ends draw near,
with footsteps, she slithers in the mansion
lighting all the beautiful chandeliers.

A hymn echoes out of nowhere
and my bones now shiver with dread.
For I do not see even a shadow in sight
But I do smell her lips crome-red.

I pray to all the gods,
the very ones, I once disavowed.
For a death that would be a blessing,
for the heart that was once too proud.

Lightning pierces the dry bark of the trees,
the fire leaves the poor animals aghast,
She laughs at me finally in a veil of white terror,
and I meet her in this afterlife at last.