A gesture and slaves manipulate the strange mechanism The basin quivers then bubbles The intricate bodies twist and moan The flesh liquefies slowly at the rate of howling Exuding the basin to fix itself on the silvered surface The eye of Nio'ogh Oron cries when he contemplates the process, When he sees to conclude the quest started on the second eon Step by step, he started learning the deleterious knowledge Year after year, he imagined this sepulchral mirror Corpse after corpse, he collected its raw material In the wild hope to reach the wisdom A whisper, a breath The black tower screams It's the scarlet dance The Nio'ogh Oron's body comes to life with an erratic move The herald of madness spreads out in a sky torn by sinister fissures The mirror finally straightens up The blood and the flesh crystallized on its surface It rises over the ground to face its creator The look of the man wallows in innards of the mirror without restraint To collect an astounding picture there A picture that the mind cannot embrace An unbearable vestige of truth The man's screams agrees to those of the tower when the chaos gets roughly in his brain