The Water-Bearer pours her starry stream, A new pantheon born of cosmic dream. Not to be feared, but welcomed with open trust, As iron age ideas return to dust. So do not cling to altars draped in gloom, There’s room upstairs, a newly furnished room. We’ll visit old gods Sunday, for old times' sake, (They’ll tell their wild stories, for nostalgia's ache). Chorus: Lonshi tal para das, Micalazoda olpirt a’oainu! Ili afames et hi-ela, Bagile zir nidali Then Monday to Friday, we'll learn the new names, To kindle the future in Aquarian flames. But Saturday holds the secret, pure and vast— The day all cycles break, designed to forever last. Chorus: Lonshi tal para das, Micalazoda olpirt a’oainu! Ili afames et hi-ela, Bagile zir nidali! Behold the changing age, The new gods speak in light! Let not fear rule your heart, For a new sun is rising! Chorus Lonshi tal para das, Micalazoda olpirt a’oainu! Ili afames et hi-ela, Bagile zir nidali!
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