I watched as divine Nathicana
Returned to the garden of Zaïs,
The zephyr-lulled garden of Zaïs,
Where lounges the lazy iguana.
I watched her descend to her dais,
Her pink-stoned and sphinx-holden dais,
Daemonic, encrimsoned with mana,
The queenly, the cold Nathicana.
She bore on her brow red Banapis,
A crescent like horns of a daemon,
A sinful and star-fallen daemon
With eyes like deep pools of black lapis.
I longed for my long-ago leman,
In yesteryear’s labyrinth my leman,
A man who knows not where his map is,
Bewildered ‘neath blood red Banapis.
She walked on the breath blown from Yabon,
Did ebony-tressed Nathicana,
The scarlet-mouthed whore Nathicana,
At autumn, the day men call Mabon.
And over the flora and fauna—
Marmoreal flora and fauna—
She shed ruby light that looked drab on
Fair Zaïs, ‘neath Dzannin-cursed Yabon.