The dark night of our soul, will bring new sparks of hope
Calling back the sun, and bringing forth the light
A lady came to me, on Alban Arthan eve
She who cuts the thread, who drives the darkness down

She held her sickle high, on the 6th day of the moon
Cutting down the crop, gathering the spice
Pine logs burn and crackle, the stinging smoke gets sweeter
On the longest night, the wheel begins to turn