Masses cover a crude granite The wood is covered by fresh leafage How perfectly blood is burning Under the heel of gray-haired sky Wild shout - and you are killed The proud beast rescue forest You wished to go forward Don't care of the old world Broke off alive flesh The son of progress, your idol The firmament will become dark All earth - the land of tombs We shall ascend, raising banners of fight Our fire devours the center of vanity The black rain fed the rests (remnants) of tops Who are you? in your souls breath of machines In your hearts breath of machines By lie boils your pale blood The son of progress guide you In terrible chaos, again and again Rise, regain, the strayed tribe Let alive blood flows
