Dissatisfied with this vile, monotonous afternoon devoted to the process of digestion, let him come and follow me!
If you fancy that you are men, and if your blood
Boils at the badges of your servitude,
Vent your pent rage! Oh cry,
And end your infamy!
Come! Let us set out!
And I will march before you, holding the sword in my hand, and already there is blood upon its blade.
Someone: Tête-d'or, what can we do?
Tête-d'or: And I, I say to you, "Who will dare to dare,
And, stamping the earth, cry 'I can' in the silence of Nothingness?"