There are circles of dance around the infernal fire. Set ablaze the sky, we moss extinguished until the morning. On such nights are wide awake animals, and smell the witch that they were going to meet. Go without permission the other doors, take in their homes mirrors and candles.
When else on my hands the whole dreadful gloom will spill over the edge! It will be light only by flashes of lightning, but such there is no need of the sun.
By the morning, capered, fly on a broom, in a fit of enthusiasm, very passionate. Catching the stellar wind light, tails of comets are woven into the braids overnight.
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