My hand at my temples: horns!
Sitting on the humus, life and decay are one.
Bodies intertwining, raw and passionate power.
Hot fluids and wet rales
The bellowing merges with the sound of the flute.
They tear the thick veil of abstinence
They lacerate the wall of asceticism
Baal, condensed solar rays, erect sexes burning the masculine toxicity.
Io Pan! Life flows like a mordant champagne, it fills the cup of the skulls and drowns the coercion.
Eko Kernunnos! A blood of red and black fire burns my veins.
And from the night rises a primal cry.