Munch-Petersen, Gustaf Uddrag fra the god of the blood (2 song)

I know, the goddess of love
is mouldering away,
withering deep in her own barrenness -
her wine was a sterile fire,
her goldenness an evil shade -
I know, the impoverished goddess of love
has nothing left -
her withered limbs have no heat left
to warm her age -
she has nothing to give -