Siep! siep! siep!
When from rifles of warriors I leap.
This, this is why sweet children cry
And wives and mothers vainly weep.
II
I tear the air, and its fine silk rips
As my kill-song sings from the rifle’s lips,
I destroy air-joy which the glad birds sing
When in love and life the winds they wing;
Theirs is a song of love and life!