the satyr dance

Let me tell you a story, now here,
now here under the stars.

Now we are all sitting around that large fire,
the red soul of brave gods.

Night is wrapping our dreams with her darkness,
let her spirits amaze us.

And this liar who says to be a skilled bard
will now show he's not drunk.

Our man was also lying here,
onto these oak's fallen leaves,
thinking night was the time for romantics
to gaze these tall wonderful trees.

Softly notes were rising
from his flute's lovely tune
amusing poor bored owls,
just feeding whimsical dreams.

A sudden new chorus arouse;
joined our man's slow melody,
but now not soft neither gloomy;
night's not just for sugaries.

Weird animals
in a lustfulness circle;
horselike men,
demoniac goats.

Singing in euphoria,
dancing in inebriety,
hoping in hotness.

Drinking their soul,
drinking their spirit,
drinking their women,
drinking alcohol.

Our man was also lying here,
onto these oak's fallen leaves,
thinking night was the time for Dionysus
to exhibit hot sexual feelings.

Neither the purest man at universe
would be able to resist
our satyr orgiastic dance,
owls soon fell asleep.

Be sure that circle
was shortly filled
with our man in the middle;
madness, sex and sin.

And if you don't yet believe
this truthful decent man
pay attention to this circle
and see whether you are gonna dance.