1. While blaming at dawn, and dawn in its mother's lap,
You blame me, yet I know not for what you blame,

2. You reproach me that glory should suckle my hopes,
Yet you know what I strive for and scheme,

3. My ambitions which glory acknowledges not to be
Like the stars adorning the horizons of the sky,

4. In it is the soul's joy, and ease that lures
My energy, and if I weary, it is anxieties,

5. And below ambitions, death or perishing,
And all hover around the frequented abode of death,

6. I will seek it while extermination dons its robe,
And naked swords in blood are swimming,

7. So I wish for nothing but a throne and a pulpit,
And a remembrance lasting over the ages.