No, Mother, the fools say: Peace, Peace. But their words do not bring peace. They lie down to sleep unheeding, and as they sleep they are on their way to death. A time is coming such as Israel has never yet known, a war such as the world has never yet seen. The living will covet the peace of the dead in their graves, and those who can see will envy the darkness with which the blind are stricken. Not yet can the fools see, not yet is it manifest to the dreamers; but I have beheld it night after night. Higher leap the flames, nearer comes the foe; the day of tumult and destruction is at hand; war's red star is rising on the night.
[Greatly moved] How know you these things?
A word has come to me in secret, For I have seen faces in the night, I have wandered in my dreams. Fear and dread fell upon me, I trembled in every limb, And like a crumbling wall My heart fainted within me. Mother, Such sights have I seen, That, if they were written, Men's hair would stand on end, And sleep would depart from them For ever.
The end draweth near; the end! Evil appeareth out of the north, Fire is its chariot, Massacre its pinions! Already the heavens ring with terror, The earth shakes with the stamping of the hoofs.
[Seizing her arm, listens] Do you hear, do you not hear, the rushing of chariots?
I hear nothing! Day is dawning. The shepherds are piping in the valleys, and a gentle breeze blows across the roof.
A gentle breeze? Woe is me! With mighty roaring The wind is rising, The whirlwind of God. From the caverns Of the north down-rushing, Terror it brandishes Over the town. Mother! Mother! Do you not hear it? Swords clash in the wind, Loud roar the chariot wheels, The night flashes with lances and with armor; Warrior upon warrior, countless in number, The whirlwind scatters over the land.
They are coming, they are coming, Strangers from the east, Men of an ancient people, Men of a mighty people. They hasten from the east In unending files; Their arrows speed like lightning; Their chargers are shod with swiftness; Their chariots are solid as rock. Among them there rideth, With blood-stained crown, The destroyer of cities By fire and sword, The tyrant of nations, The king of kings from the north.