The death has taken the rich harvest Angels selves are dead But somebody trumpets Somebody calls to me I must rise from the dead I must take up arms I must depart to the battle I must… Who calls to me so emphatically? Who trumpets the alarm so furiously? Who gives me no rest? Who wakens me from the dead? Skeletons and carrion angels surround me They perished long ago already or recently And they want not to perish again But the trumpet calls to death afresh The resurrection is a painful process I regained my sight because of pain The open eyes gave me the answer I held the trumpet and called all together Stand up, angels and people! We have much to do! We are dead, but the world is not destroyed! Take up arms quickly! We came out from the death We enter into the death The sound of my trumpet is the voice of death The death is insatiable