In a morning in haze, over you walking alone, dark clounds silently smiled
and cast down their own cold shadows.
... Completion of the life must require the death...
Within black clothes, you remain standing in looking up at nine lightening
spheres flying down to you.
EHXARPE HEKOMA NAENTA BITOME.
By getting over the mighty black cross, there are no more places that you
cannot reach at.
All these six hundred and fourty four divisions of this world are being under
your control.
In all these five dimensions, height, width, depth, time, and consciousness,
you are becoming the true ruler of your own world.
Time's come to you to enter in the realm where nobody on the earth has never
yet ariived.
O your formula is now completed.
Then you see dark figures of nine ladies, however, wearing black clothes as
yours, within these lightning spheres coming down.
Their eyes are coloured grey, or colourless, and their cursed pastime are
lying over.
But you feel no fear.
EHXARPE HEKOMA NAENTA BITOME.
Deep behind the grey lies inorganic eternity that stares at you and your life
just innocently and with a little pity, neither in longing you, nor in
refusing you.
You silently look back at the tower of earth, and your words of might vibrate
the air.
MOAR-DIALE-HEKETEGA.
O IKEZOD-HIKAL.
Time's come to you to return your corpse to him.
O now to the direction of the tower of earth.
TELOKEHE,TELOKEHE.
SIATERISE-NAENTA.
PI-BELIAR BABALOEN.
O now the death carries your corpse away to the Scorpio of earth.
You, however, shall flee from him.
Then you shall proceed to the palace of pity, the palace of the lady Babaloen.
O life of the imprisoned.
And their inorganic beating clockworks echoe over the horizon, lighted with
warm and cold grey light, without any change, since that pastime in their
memories.
Can you hear the winds whisper the warning?
Behold, he is the master of the Death.
He approaches flowing to the front of you, or you yourself are powerlessly
drawn to him, then he, just coldly and silently, reaps your life out.
What you regarded as your corpse loses its activeness and its colour of blood,
and comes coldly unsawn.
What you regarded as yourself is unchained from the prison of flesh.
You are no more on the ground where you stood with your feet.
The identity of your corpse: Your limbs, head, trunk, eyes, nose, and mouth,
everything struggles to ascend by leaving the corpse that ruins on the ground.
This silence that might kill any lives is just the prologue.
If you still keep being yourself, turn and look upon the tower of water.
EMPEHE-ARESEL-GAIOLE
O RAAGIOSEL.
You once again return your blood to him.
To the direction of the tower of water.
TELOKEHE,TELOKEHE.
NAZODPES-TELOKEHE.
HEKOMA.
EF-KENILA.
PI-BLIAR ZODEN BABALOEN.
O the sword of Death.
He pierces through the blood of you.
You, however, shall flee from him.
Then you shall proceed to the palace of pity, the palace of the lady Babaloen.
The carved seals of the one that lived imprisoned are erased one by one in
melting down within the wind.
All the sceneries that formed the shape of you one by one lose any reasons to
be then, there and so, even in remaining in your memory, in turning in
shapeless ashes.
All your lust to be with them, and to be within your body, is gradually being
lost and forgotten.
Your personality disintegrates and your identity is freed from the restraint
and begins ascending to the higher dimension.
On the horizon lighted with warm and cold grey light, there no more stand your
feet.
The tower of wind draws you that struggle to break your shell.
ORO-IBAH-AOZODPI.
O BATAIVAH.
You return your breath to him.
To the direction of the tower of wind.
TELOKEHE,TELOKEHE.
ADEPEHAENTE-ORASE TELOKEHE.
EHXARPE PI-BELIAR SALEMANE BABALOEN.
O the ineffable darkness of Death, he conceals your breath.
You, however, shall flee from him.
Then you shall proceed to the palace of pity, the palace of the lady Babaloen.