---

The moon is full and high

The hooded figures are walking

One by one, at the crest of the hill

No wind is blowing tonight

The nightbirds are mute

The robed ones are now descending

With torches in hand, down the kluf

The leafs of the trees are freezed

Even the shadows seem to be still

Now that they have reached the glade

One by one, they are forming a circle

The silence is broken by chanting whispers

Mystic symbols are drawned on the ground

Ancient words are spoken

From languages forgotten

Some to be praised

Some to be cursed

Tonight is the night of the gathering