Dragons falls in their scales

cause the lord awaits,

nor in true form,

neither in clouds.

His power is in the virile staff,

its waves cover all the your skye,

obstrute your blood in torrents,

and the las drop is for her, 

your lady...

She, muse of the beast,

provocator of the beast,

setter of the final emotion

In the pinnacle she rules the animal in us,

the man, with their raw impulse flowing,

let the enchanting female possess us...

                                                                    -Satir and Ulvarg