Narration:
Tired and submissive
Lying down on the black altar
She waits passive and anguished
A frost silence glides into the assembly
Priest reflection:
Only my invocation resounds in the heads of the followers
Priest with the crowd:
— Glory to you Ounis
— Praise be to Ounis
The priest:
— So her blood may quench your thirst
— So her meat may appease your hunger
— For you we’ll eat the red crown
— For you we’ll lick the green crown
Priest with the crowd:
— Glory to you Ounis
— Praise be to Ounis
Narration:
The blade penetrates deeply in the young flesh
All together copulate with the bloody wounds
The priest:
Here’s the theatre of our dreams
— This is the beauty of absurdity
Priest with the crowd:
— Glory and praise be to Ounis