These thousands gathered from the ends of the earth, are thine, and thine only.
We see thine image bedecked with jewels, shine like the sun at his rising
Before thee, the stone, whereon the favoured one yields up his life for thy glory.
Smoking hearts dost thou love, the savour of blood, the carnage of battle.
For thou art god of war, death alone is the way to thy favour.
Spins before thee that precious stone by which thou tellest thy wishes,
That shining, precious stone, which now burns red as the blood of thine altars,
Crimson it gleams, hinting war! War is the fate of the future!
Oh, mighty one! Lord of the humming-bird's foot! We pray thee give order,
That the red war light melt soon to the azure of peace,