The fires are lit.
The boys are set to run.
The light of the torches they bear warm the night.
The sacrifices are waiting.
The wine will be poured.
The songs in your honor will bring joy to our hearts.
The barley will be sprinkled.
The altar will be consecrated.
The power of your spirit will infuse it as we pray.
The boys run.
The torches smoke.
The worshippers anxiously await them.
They arrive, smiling and proud.
The altar fire is set to burning.
The priests sing forth to you in the chill breeze.
The song reaches it zenith.
The sacrifices are made.
The glorious scents of the altar rise to his perception.
The God is called.
The God arrives.
The divine spirit of the forge is brought to the hearts of man.
The pious rejoice.
The people feast.
The night rolls forth into day.
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