Her body like alabaster;
naked ivory skin
In her nimble spectral hands she holds a chalice
To her throne men flock,
leaving offerings in honor of her graces,
attending to her temple and
keeping the fire lit from within
The flute player plays his hand at entrancement
chasing nymphs through her gardens of bliss,
On all sides of the temple dancers dance
in perfect synchronicity
Bacchus held a tribunal and brought the wine
Fir trees ivy and fern enclose this sacred place
that echoes of infinity
The sacraments of Pity's words resound
louder than any orchestra
"This beauty is mine and mine alone"
