I've leant my ear to the ground.
I shan't break a torment with my sobbing.
But you're tormenting soul hardly
With your eternal and hoarse groan!
Hey, stand up, light up, burn that all!
Hey, lift your true hammer up higher,
That darkness would be splitted over
With a living lightning very bright
And would illuminate the gloom,
Where nothing you could see, where you
Are digging earth as a mole through!
I hear the raucous voice anew...
Don't hesitate. Remember: the weaker
Ear would fall down and qickly
By their fast and ruthless sickle...
Dig grains in this bad ground, seek,
And go out. Know: under casual triumph
There exists a death. Cherish new, hide,
The spring will pass over, brought up
By your blood, and new love will ripen.
3 june 1907