I see an abyssal shadow rising from the spring
It moves against the light
The face hears from behind the veil
The mark of the serpent burns the skin of my hand
It raises the crescent moon
Fear disappears
The black-toothed mouth opens
And the darkness crawls out from under the tongue
The dead speak
The senses erupt
I have seen the way to the last cemetery
Snakes talk
Hands obеy
I have seen the way to the purifying firе