1. O nation, devourer of livers in ravenous passion,

    Curb her hands—for you have spared us not a single liver.

  2. Were it not for you, she would never have borne a sword with which to charge,

    Nor built herself pillars out of our hopes.

  3. Roaming the ravines of the earth, wreaking havoc,

    She shows neither father nor child a trace of mercy.

  4. She trails the train of Night’s daughters in haughty pride,

    And never have I seen any hand of hers among righteous deeds.

Sol 5.6