Toward the Creative Nothing

Today we have reached the tragic celebration of a great social dusk
The twilight is red
The sunset is bloody
Anxiety flaps its throbbing wings in the wind
Wings red with blood; wings black with death
In the shadow Sorrow organized the army of her unknown children

Beauty is in the garden of LIfe, and is weaving garlands of flowers to crown the brows of the heroes
The free spirits have already hurled their thunderbolts across the twilight
As first announcements of fire, first signals of war
Our epoch is under the wheels of history
Democratic civilization turns toward the grave

We have lit the torches of thought
And we have smashed
And we have unhinged
The fatal announcement
Of a great social storm

The dead, our dead, speak:
"We have died with stars in our eyes.
We have died with rays of the sun in our pupils
We have died with hearts swollen with dreams
We have died with the song of the most beautiful hope in our mind
We have died with the fire of an idea in our brain
We have died..."

Oh dead, oh dead
Oh our dead
Oh luminous torches
Oh burning beacons
Oh crackling pyres
Oh dead...
Here it is, we are at twilight

Oh dead; our dead
We have lit the torches of thought
And we have smashed
And we have unhinged
The fatal announcement
Of a great social storm

We will expropriate
Laughing
Liberated "I"
Society will fall

Forward, forward, oh joyful destroyers
And we write our truths with laughter
Forward, forward, oh joyful destroyers
It is time
And we write our passions in blood
Forward, forward, oh joyful destroyers
It is time
And we laugh
Forward, forward, oh joyful destroyers
It is time
The abyss awaits us
We leap into it
In the end
Toward the creative nothing