They sing and scream, whisper and laugh, hop and dance. They are simple, as women-folk ought to be, but also Dionysian, frenzied, wild; free. They dance (in step, in groove), and all the while they chant this silent spell:

Who are you to tell us how
The rain descends and drains, and now
To guide our life and to endow
Us with your gifts of piercing sight
To speed us on this rhythmic flight
To bathe us in Divine delight
You are Krim, you are Krim

Who were we, we puny souls
We roamed & danced with unknown goals
So dutifully playing roles
That lonely, un-examin’d life
Was married, yes: confusion’s wife
Through empty years of pain & strife
We were Lost, we were Lost

But then You came, and You perceived
How all of us had been deceived
And so in our minds conceived
The ancient, magikal idea
Of how Our’Earth has come to be
You taught us all to truly see
We were Saved, we were Saved

So who am I to ramble on
Now that my sorrows, all, are gone
Regrets, remorse, concerns; no, none
And even as the stars grow dim
When I am drained of Life & vim
My Death is blessed by Father Krim
Majahi, Majahi

Yes, they were wild and free, yet Melankolie was their earthly destiny. Is their spell not like those of Old Krimälainen?