The way leading to him is unknown and steep And the bodies rests of those who didn't deserve him make it slippery But it is at the borders of my soul, so I know the secrets to walk along it staying unhurt
The threshold of his abode is barred by a tangle of infected thorns But my soul keeps its key
His throne is shielded by 12 servants' stare But he has called me, I felt him calling me And he has given me the power to bewitch them
His rooms are icy But he warms my naked body with his breath
The throb and the blood flow suspend In the presence of him
His eyes, diabolical larvas his pupils, scan me His glance captures me and penetrates my breast
Goblet of delicious vermilion wine I give myself up to his grim embrace
Throb of death
He is the storm He is the breeze He is the aurora He is the twilight He is the everlasting mind in the timeless abyss He injures and sates my lips He lessens my hunger He appeases my thirst He is fire burning my flesh He is icy snow settling in my womb
Rod of viscid serpents Death and blood excite him And my blood is the balm for his ecstasy and his voracious delight
Putrid carrion with burnt seales Obscure seducer with smooth scented skin of infant