And this is a task that was not intended for him. Nevertheless let him sleep his sleep;
For in its splendor the army of the heavens passes above the earth,
And is reflected in the puddles and the open wells in the market-gardens.
Wait patiently and listen to the cock crowing in the night,
And soon it will be the hour when the baker throws the dough on the kneading board with a dull thud, a sign that the dawn is near.
I think that the sun will rise and will strike with a ruddy light the wall overgrown with the ancient royal vine,
And the light and the breeze will enter through the windows vast and high!
I shall think only this and shall keep my eyes upraised. For they are made to see and if they close it is only to open again.
(Prolonged silence.—The sound of cannon.
The First Watcher: It is he! There is news!