Mistress of nations, every soul on earth
Becomes her vassal at the hour of birth.
Kings are her subjects, as the peasant boy,
And brilliant minds with her a fancy toy.
Once steeped in sleep, all minds become as one,
For Gentian’s spell o’er man has then begun.
No longer cares of base terrestrial clay
Torment the soul with visions of the day.
Earth is no more, the river crossed is deep,
Man dies each time his head is bowed in sleep,