And men, drunk of vanity Will know the day in which proud admire their own extinction And I could before the temples falling down It's old monoliths in ruins Their flags burning in a blackened sky Blue rivers now run red and the burned turf looks back The gloomy moorland a perfect dead landscape A deserted earth, mired in dark On the battlefield the corpses rot The lightings illuminate the sky and the crows eat their dying meat They remaining as torn flesh In the wild and arid Earth there is no glory for the dead