On our face, the bread we knead
In our mouth, the bread we all are
The sun on the snowy night.
From the cold spring to the warm bonfire
The earthworm searches for the earth-hole
The furze surrounds the white birch
In a spiralling life.
The cold kept us warm
And a hundred bolts of lightning opened us
We leave sad, yet happy.
In three days plus three, plus one that is all
We are three, plus three, plus three, plus three,
plus three, plus three, minus one who we all are.
We are alone with all that we love
The Luminous One, the fire that brings visions at twilight
The Skillful One, the silver-tongued Bard,
protector of artists, craftsmen and thieves.
The Triple Mother, to be born, live, and die.
Burnt in awe from within
We dragged the night's disaster alongside ourselves
As if it were sheer light.
cemrariostabram@nofuture.biz