Amigos de Miguel Serrano

Wotan and the Runes Suddenly, during the night's bitterness I see Wotan's Oak wrapped in a silent glow forging an alliance with the mysterious powers The moon, in its magical enchantment, trace the Runes. Everything that during the day has become full of impurity makes itself imperceptible towards the Magic Formula. Thus, the fake ones are separated form the loyal ones. And I find myself in front of a bell tent of Swords.

"Hitler's poem was written by Hitler in the trenches during the First World War. I translated it and the offer is a very affectionate one for my great friend Miguel Serrano." Léon Degrelle Madrid, 18.08.1984

"This poem was written by Adolf Hitler in the trenches during the First World War (1914-1918, and has been translated by me into Spanish, from the French translation by Léon Degrelle. I dedicate it to the comrades of Esoteric Hitlerism, to the pilgrims of the Great Longing." Santiago, 25th November of the year 95¹. (1984) Miguel Serrano ¹Year 95 of the Hitlerian Era.

"Eu não sou deste mundo. Sou hiperbóreo como você, Serrano. Sou um estranho neste mundo, nesta terra habitada pelos escravos da Atlântida."

If a man breeds from strong, well-shaped dogs, but of mixed pedigree, the puppies will be sometimes, but rarely, the equals of their parents. They will commonly be of a mongrel, nondescript type, because ancestral peculiarities are apt to crop out in the offspring. […] The breeder selects the puppies that most nearly approach the wished-for type, generation after generation, until they have no ancestor, within many degrees, that has objectionable peculiarities. So it is with men and women. Because one or both of a child's parents are able, it does not in the least follow as a matter of necessity, but only as one of moderately unfavourable odds, that the child will be able also. He inherits an extraordinary mixture of qualities displayed in his grandparents, great-grandparents, and more remote ancestors, as well as from those of his father and mother.