Perishing Nights

As the wolves howl
 And the moon penetrates the driving clouds
 When the trees cradle above a murmerous cascade
 Your stature approaches closer and closer
 An Osculum Infame
 Your scent is still present
 In this place so dark, so pure
 At a bed of leaves I still see your shadow
 In the sinister shade of a horned moon
 Ishtar, my witch, my burning Goddess
 Every woman bears your mark in her soul
 As the rustle of leaves and the rustle of flames
 Inflame your transistory (yet eternal) existence
 I embrace your light
 It shines through the leaves of trees so old
 As the beckoning of bells in the freezing night
 Makes us forget about the cold
 As the wolves howl
 And the moon penetrates the driving clouds
 When the trees cradle above a murmerous cascade
 Your stature disappears slowly and grave
 An Osculum Infame