Thru which our forefathers gave vent in dark,
In light, in joy, in grief, in hope and in
Despair, in fear and in their bravery,
In victory and in loss; that you are
In doubt, pray, what shadow’ll lead you out
What bear thee or lift thee? The captives cry,
Or freedom cries? The voice of crying trumpets,
Supported by the cry of pipes, and all,
(The groan of strings, the clamorous bell, the ring
Of voice), in victorious papitation, it
Is driven under the open skies and thru
The mist of clouds, somewhere—perhaps to God—
What say you—you who stand next to the altars?
Translated by Ivan Kramoris