| The forests of earth should not frighten me
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| But o Mother Gaea, what is this light?
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| Mother Gaea, all those visions — my blood boils!
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| Through feculent warmth
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| I creep on ancient soil
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| Recollection so vivid
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| Let me chant in intoxication…
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| I shall rest here forevermore
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| Gaia speaks:
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| «…and what if I told you
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| That we’ve been on a glade here
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| And the grim trees ahead
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| Are none of my creatures
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| And those golden rays are not thrown from a sun
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| And your necrotic scales merely struggle through lava
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| …would your eyes turn cloudy?» |