Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
In all Her many guise!
The Tearing One,
Who fills the dark,
The Mother of everything!

Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
Hail the Wild One!
Hail Her Get,
Hail Her Twins,
The Dancers of the Dark!

Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
Hail the Hooded Three!
Hail fair Spinner,
Hail sly Weaver,
Hail the dreaded Cutter now!

Hail Lupercal!
O hail the Wolf,
And hail the Keeper Four,
White Fame and Red,
Green Flame and Blue,
Hail the mighty blowing Winds!

Hail Lupercal!
Oh hail the Wolf,
Hail the Goat and Wolf in one!
Lupercalia,
The feast each year,
An offering to God Herself!

~Hail Lupercal! a poem of Lupercalia by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, February 18, 2017

The mists that part,
  By Bride's Day light,
Are mists between the worlds,
They open wide,
  The gates of night,
And allow things to pass both ways,
What died before,
  Comes forth once more,
The serpent's wings are spread,
On Hallow's Eve,
  That sacrifice,
Begins the year again,
Forth from the well,
  Between the worlds,
Scaled form returns once more,
A new year dawns,
  In dark moon light,
And all begins once more,
Upon her forge,
  New year is wrought,
By hammer and by flame,
The raven's call,
  The hope of all,
As she forges the year again,
Now the births,
  In springtime snows,
In cold and solemn moons,
Keeper of Ways,
  Builder of Paths,
Takes now the regency,
Misrule is done,
  That tide is turned,
Bride's Time has come again,
The Trouble Moon,
  It parts and passes,
The Lost Moon begins again.
And awakened now,
  The serpent old,
Begins a journey home,
As they open wide,
  The gates of night,
And allow things to pass both ways,
For the mists that part,
  By Bride's Day light,
Are mists between the worlds.
~Mists Between the Worlds, a Candlemas poem by Lorekeeper, February 3, 2017

Through the darkness I part the Veil,
And walk the hidden paths,
In the brightness beyond the pale,
I see what none have seen.
There's danger here in the world beyond,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

And all my days it waits for me,
The calling in my blood,
And through the years I walk the paths,
That very few have seen,
The Veil grows thin as years go by,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

Through the darkness I return again,
From those fair hidden paths,
And as I walk I learn to talk,
Like I once knew I could,
For few have been beyond the veil,
In the gleam beyond the gloom.

~In the Gleam Beyond the Gloom by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, March 5, 2015


My attempt at translating it into Latin:

Velum parte post umbram,
Et ambulate per semitae occultae,
In splendóribus supra pallidus,
Non video quid viderim.
Non est hic mundus extra periculum,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Et omnibus diebus meis memet maneat
Vocatio in sanguine meo,
Et per annos ambulate semitae,
Valde pauci, quas vidi,
Velum crescit tenuis quod eunt anni,
In splendóribus post umbram.

Per tenebras revertentur
Ex his latet semitas occultae,
Et ego ambulo illis loquela,
Scientes semel ego potui,
Pauci abierunt trans velum,
In splendóribus post umbram.


And a translation of that Latin from an academic translation site:

And the hanging for the part after the shadow,
And walk by the ways of the hidden God,
In the brightness of beyond the pale,
I do not see what I saw,
He is not here the world is out of danger,
In the brightness after the shadow.

The call waits for me,
In my blood, and all my days,
And I will walk you through the years, the highways,
Very few men, that I have seen,
As the years go by the thin veil of the increases,
In the brightness after the shadow.

From these things it is hidden by the darkness,
They shall come again the paths of the hidden God,
And I, I walk the angels have speech,
Yet knowing that once I was able to,
They went to the other side of the veil of the few,
In the brightness after the shadow.

I stand beneath the starstrone sky,
In the darkness of the night,
A lonely hill, grey in the dark,
A darkness you can feel.

The stars the spin, they move around,
Before my wondering eyes,
Stars not fixed but thought to be,
Stars like dancing fire flies.

And spin they do, but all return,
To their course across the sky,
These pin ****** move yet stay quite still,
In the darkness of the night.

No wonder all the ancient times,
Spirits and gods they were,
Always present, always watching,
But never holding still.

Ancient secrets painted plain,
Above for all to see,
Yet few do see and less do know,
The secrets painted there.

The singing song, the lonely dance,
Of the stars in darkest night,
The tales they know, the things they’ve seen,
And no one knows it all.

Here I stand, they dance around,
I see the sacred plan,
The whirling castle, the Well of Stars,
And all that is drawn to them.

I stand beneath the starstrone sky,
In the darkness of the night,
A lonely hill, grey in the dark,
A darkness you can feel.

~Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, September 25, 2014