"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 doncella'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. "

This work was made in photoshop 7.
(c) Cris Ortega / Norma Editorial