And now we bring you back with us, having lifted you from the ground.
Gaze upon this! Behold it, mountains, and you O forests, that sprang from the fraternal tree!
Let a shudder run through the roots of all that grows because the King of men is dead!
O malediction on man! O death! O condemnation!
O prisoning place! O horror of the place in which we are!
O King! O King!
You are dead and it is death we are holding in our hands!
The Standard Bearer: Stop! Put an end to this fury!—You force me to speak.
Grief, arises within me like the longing to vomit felt by a woman with child,
And the tears that I would shed