In beloved Carcosa where the soul-song dies,
Where preoccupied tongues cannot speak lies,
Accompanied by tortured, delighted cries,
The ritual begins ‘neath aberrant skies.
Flesh-drums pound and searing sparks soar.
Every mouth screams a rapturous roar.
In a ring of fire on the marble floor,
naked bodies lie together, alive in gore.
Slit-tongued priests wail and cry,
“Before the morning comes, the groom shall kiss the bride!”
In beloved Carcosa where the soul-song dies,
Lovers lie entwined as the whole city writhes.
Behind the squirming towers, black stars rise,
And the cup overflows with blood and seeing eyes.
The shroud rolls back, and the Void draws near,
Carcosa convulses and mortals fear,
The Night Side of Paradise raises an ear:
The Cyrenaic Citadel thrusts like a spear.
Slit-tongued priests wail and cry,
“Before the morning comes, the groom shall kiss the bride!”
In beloved Carcosa where the soul-song dies,
Pleasure has been found behind pain’s guise.
The ritual climaxes, reaching highest highs,
And the city shudders like a woman’s thighs.
Among the searing fires, skin on skin,
Groom kisses bride at the apex of sin.
Abruptly comes silence, quiescence from the din,
As black Carcosa chains the helpless souls within.
NB: Ritual song of Navarra Kulenov, Sorceress of the Court of Carcosa, as transcribed by the explorer and wayfarer M. Pollus. Though works of his continue to be published, he has not been seen since travelling to that benighted City. His work for The Traveller’s Guide will continue to be taken from these mysterious tomes.
[Editor’s Note: The Traveller’s Guide to the Realms is not responsible for any misfortune that may arise from signing the song aloud or following the directions contained within.]
