Till naught is left of terrene wine
But somewhat deathless and divine!
Not by a faint and fairy tale
We shadow forth the immortal way.
No symbols exquisitely pale
Avail to lure the secrets gray
Of his endeavour who proceeds
By doing to abolish deeds.
Not by the pipings of a bird
In skies of blue on fields of gold,
But by a fierce and loathly word
The abomination must be told.
The holy work must twist its spell
From hemp of madness, grown in hell.
Only by energy and strife
May man attain the eternal rest,
Dissolve the desperate lust of life
By infinite agony and zest.
Thus, O my Kali, I divine
The golden secret of thy shrine!
72