Tumeken, Lord of Light and Suns,
Creator of the lesser ones,
Elidinis, where life's water runs,
Had a daughter and a son.
Icthlarin the male one's name,
The sting of death he came to tame,
And guiding souls through fire and flame,
To everlasting life, his fame.
Amascut, daughter of the pair,
Protected those from mortal snare,
Delivering them who had a care,
From death to life through prayer.
She wandered far to distant lands,
In search of soldiers with commands,
But madness came by their demands,
The Mahjarrat hands, Mahjarrat hands, Mahjarrat hands.
The tribe of war instilled in her,
A fury no one could deter,
Amascut's mind then all a-stir,
And she embraced their anger.
Then losing all of her control,
Abandoning the previous role,
Destroying came, consuming whole,
The Devourer of their soul.
And so neglecting of her kin,
To Icthlarin revealed chagrin,
Vowed vengeance and revenge on him,
Showing hatred in her sin.
Amascut laid a curse on us,
She turned our joy to ash and dust,
Now you have come at last to us,
Free Menaphos, Menaphos, Menaphos.