On the day before the Atonement I shall confess having desisted on the idea of being an artist, of being a tender soul. Wounded in the flesh by the miseries of a young soul I wander through a storm in which blank pages come twofold, and even when watched from above by the first-born sons of the Sun I might be allowed to remain in the night for there's where I belong. Shall I not be allowed by the limits of the Sun to step into the heights of the Olympus and shall I remain in companion of Persephone and other deities of the underworld for I have found my nest in a dark forest near the river of Stygia that surrounds and confines ninefold the gates of the underworld.
Midway the night of Lesbos and Arcadia shall not come the golden chariots of the morning and may I be granted a permanent dominion over the waters that surround my forest, mountain wolves and souls. May I perhaps rule over the volcano that rises before me and hides me from the inclement virtues of the sun. Shall this be granted I might swear loyalty to my creator god.
For I'm a daughter of the night and Demetrian warrior, shall I not see the face of the solar gods and might my face be covered by a mask of mud that will protect me from divine chores; shall I be slain in my mortal and vicious soul for from beyond the graves beneath my river I've risen and no interest in immortality I hold.
I desist from the glories of this world for no poet or wise man I behold, shall my companion in the Hades be my river, my forest and my wolf. Shall I not be separated from them for I bore them from my womb. To the kin of the heathen I belong, beneath the river I shall long.