Far-away echos accompany the dim lights of torches Old and mighty trees twine along the holy way of an ancient procession Simple but obscure songs are murmured in the deep arboreal temple Only two mighty blades shine in the reflection of fire From our directions come the old sages, each with his number and each carrying his ancestor's treasures Everything repeats as in an old prophecy marked by a vision donated by the Spirit of Nature And nothing is quiet in the dark heart of the forest It's inhabitants voices The breed of the trees and the men's mantra are part of a unique great ritual Nothing is quiet... nothing The four shining serpents slowly draw near to form a circle following the rhythm of Dark and deep rumbles like the heartbeats of a huge dragon as he is drawing near Everything wheels in an alchemist dance, where the symbols will become laws preserved By a family of sages, the men of the oaks Four serpents united and became one circular serpents, just one in the ancient nemeton Where each man was near his stones and symbols Now, everything is silent in the large forest And even the magical lights of the flames seem to burn out in the silence In the circle of men and stones, only the oldest one begins to sing a new but terrible prophecy