Speak to me, whisper anything, move your lips.
Tell me about the rain, how it falls from the white empire.
Tell me a lie or a trick, a violet poison; I do not care.
I can take a hundred bullets and a thousand knives;
if it is from you, I am blind to the pain,
because your eyes are far more dangerous than them.
The call of the goddess, the throne of the heavens,
descending from high above to the one star:
ever higher, ever brighter, illuminate the horizon.