Ategnatos

O bright sun of the night I lift my eyes up to thee O ye amber golden light Let the dark sweep over me Mighty cauldron, o nidus I surrender all to thee Panacean nothingness When nothing is left On the winnow fields They beheld the gate Trembling with fear And afraid to forfeit Anxiously They clinged to table scrabs As if to aver Their deprivation And the swine crowed round The shining lot of pearls With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven flies A fool is the slave Who fears not his fetters But watches over them with jealousy On the winnow fields They beheld their lives Paralysed with fear In the presence of the Vergobret So they cherished Doctrines of denial And wallowed In poor men's tales And the swine crowed round The shining lot of pearls Just like the vultures Grave cadaveric flesh With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven flies With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven flies