I was born as a fawn
In a field of high clover
In a secret time when the forest
Weaved mysterious incantations

And the witches came
Women gliding serpentine
Carrying their charge wrapped in red cloth
On the fresh clay yeasting

From the strange mantra
That they said to be my faith
It seems to me as I hear on of them
Dropping the word madness

And it is hardly light
Their incantation in my mind
Like an insane night and day
I get lost among words