She comes from the Temple’s spleen
born of the darkest night to the fire of sacrifice,
The gift of the Sholoch to the King
The gift of the many
 For Cyrus decreed that the King
Would wed one of their number
In each year of his reign.
The gift of the power
 For in marriage to the one child
Cyrus gained dominion over hell
Striking through Hahn’s heart
The gift of the one
 From the many she is exposed
For the world of man to desire
For the King to hold
The gift of sight
From The Book of Cyrus, Songs of the Sholoch, ch. 1, verses 1-4
 The child Hora is slave to the glass
Goddess of beauty, her mirror tames her.
She cannot resist its seductive lure.
Away from it, not even Hahn can resist her wiles.
Only a foolish man approaches her.
 The woman Hora is slave to the glass,
a mirror that separates her from Hahn,
tool of Cyrus and his descendants
to rule all Albion and it’s people
He who rules Hora tames Hahn.
 The ancient Hora is prisoner to the glass.
She succumbs to the four points,
submits to fire and virgin blood
smash the mirror, destroy her image
Cyrus, quench her fire.
 The broken Hora is lost in the glass.
In a million pieces, her mind is lost.
She roams the other side endlessly,
a weak resemblance of herself
Her mirror gives no peace.
From The Book of Cyrus, Songs of the Tioch, ch. 5, verses 1-4