The Serpent's Nemeton

Far-away echos accompany the dim lights of torches

Old and mighty trees twine along

The holy way of an ancient procession

Simple but obscure songs are

Murmured in the deep arboreal temple

Only two mighty blades shine in the reflection of fire

From our directions come the old sages

Each with his number

And each carrying his ancestor's treasures

Everything repeats as in

An old prophecy marked by a vision donated

By the Spirit of Nature

And nothing is quiet in the dark heart of the forest

It's inhabitants voices

The breed of the trees and the men's mantra

Are part of a unique great ritual

Nothing is quiet... nothing

The four shining serpents slowly draw near

To form a circle following the rhythm of

Dark and deep rumbles like the heartbeats

Of a huge dragon as he is drawing near

Everything wheels in an alchemist dance

Where the symbols will become laws preserved

By a family of sages, the men of the oaks

Four serpents united and became one circular serpents

Just one in the ancient nemeton

Where each man was near his stones and symbols

Now, everything is silent in the large forest

And even the magical lights of the flames seem

To burn out in the silence

In the circle of men and stones

Only the oldest one begins

To sing a new but terrible prophecy