Trees mingle, like ebony branches

And patches, yellow and decayed

In the moonlight, white branches sway

Blood drips from the branches

As the dead pay

Nymphs dance, parasites prance

And in darkness prey

In the clearings lie magical cottages

Where the dead play

And daytime comes and the forest is green

And peaceful, as from the mountains come streams

The water is clear

And all are free from fear

God is merciful, but a little too generous

Bountiful harvests and fields of happy peasants

And the wtches work magic and fly on their brooms

And creep around at night eating babies hearts out with spoons

The magical forest full of knowledge and power

From the mightiest tree, to the smallest flower