Behold, the might of the waters,
Tamed and banned to the cauldrons,
Effervescent, yet in the depth: Unquenchable lights
To overexpose my wounds
Hail to the caldrons!
With power to reconstruct dreams extinct,
In the fires of time
I speak of a potion,
With power to resurrect the dead,
Stay, my transient muse! Don't vanish with the dawn!
Oh radiant caldron, why must you shine so bright?
I fear you froth a hidden truth
I picture you as the last beacon in the night,
To prove to this rache that it has failed
As the froth does clear I see a mirror
And afraid of my own face, I retreat
But less and less, I fear, seems worth it,
To be practised in the absence of thy vital heat
