You - an exuberant call of recruiting horns,
Giving rise to the wrong trail,
You - Gray wind pourable rivers,
Deceptive marsh light.
Love you, as the staff - Wanderer,
As a warrior - lovely in battle,
you provizhu, as an exile
Foresees their homeland.
But your face is invisible to me, unknown,
Your inconceivable power:
leading me, as the leader, to victory,
incinerates you, as a passion.
December 1913
