Aracne, Aracne,
your web, where is it?
By the trees of the forest
your companions I have seen.

Don't look for me, traveller,
you will not find me here.
Of this place I have gone away
for a never more return.

Aracne, Aracne,
your web, where is it?
Of the trees of the forest
maiden's hair are falling.

Damned is my destiny,
nobody I can be shown.
Great punishment prevailed to me
to weave this loom to end.

Aracne, Aracne,
your web, where is it?
On the trees of the forest
the moon your silhouette trims.

I don't know how to escape
nor where I can be hidden.
My presence causes hatred,
fear, grief and pain.

Aracne, Aracne,
your web, where is it?
Between the trees of the forest
the wind whispers your pains.

Details of this work:

Image for the artbook Forgotten, published by Norma Editorial.
Also available in the Portfolio.

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