For ages my spirit slept dead
In this old temple-grave
Where the ancient ones of many names

Sleep their aeonic slumber
Forgotten by all
Replaced by the illusions
Of a weak race of mortals

But unseen by the mortal fools
Bastardized by the crucified jew
Forgotten stars are forming once again
The seals of those of old, in the night

And, after ages of silence
Goatsteps resound again
Deep in the silent Woods
And deep in the silence of the Cosmos
Where also their Power haunts the stars again
(felt) by the wise, unknown to human fools

My ancient spirit is opening the tomb's gate
Awakened by such uncanny sounds and magickal vibrations

To welcome and greet them, by the ancient sign of the horns and witness how they will close the precessional cycle

A blood-filled chalice to be offered for the aeon
Ouroborous finally bites his (own) tail again
Darkness returns...

My spirit shall then sleep in the aeongrave again
But my soul or part of it will probably live forever as god is eternal they say

And my soul is his grave...