You, tearing off the cover
From the catafalques and cradles,
The woman furious of disasters,
Inflicter of distresses,
Of deseases, elements and wars,
- The Black magician! -
- The serf-owner! -
I've heard the terrible howl
Of lions, prophesying a chariot.
I hear the voices passionate -
One of them is silent persistently.
I see the red sails - out of them
One - is black completely.
Whether you are directed by ocean,
Or by air, - with all my breast
I'm waiting, as to sun my chest opening -
To the justice's killing influence.
29 june 1916