希望、怀疑和恐惧的火焰和狂野的光芒，瞬息万变的风，以及随着暴风骤雨变换的乌云和时数;哭得好，祸不单行。希望仍然坐着，遮住了她那饱经战火的眼睛，怀疑把她的额头朝下，否认一切;但是，当恐惧与危险近距离接触时，它就死去了，在战斗的火焰中被烧毁了。因失落而伤痕累累，因羞耻而憔悴的心，在时间的触摸下化作吞噬的火焰;悲伤就像一个不知道自己名字的人，也不知道她看见的星星是带来白昼还是黑夜。在狂暴的空气中，没有歌声与它一起中断，只有羞耻、失败和野蛮绝望的尖叫;然而，在那遥远的地方，那颗星的心中，有一种东西在我们遇难的视线中，像灯塔一样燃烧着。哦，奇异的凶光预示着，不为人知的星，你的舌头将告诉我们你的秘密，是什么信息从那么远的地方在你身上颤抖?呜呼哭泣。但善者必遭恶报。 From shores laid waste across an iron sea Where the waifs drift of hopes that were to be, Across the red rolled foam we look for thee, Across the fire we look up for the light. From days laid waste across disastrous years, From hopes cut down across a world of fears, We gaze with eyes too passionate for tears, Where faith abides though hope be put to flight. Old hope is dead, the grey-haired hope grown blind That talked with us of old things out of mind, Dreams, deeds and men the world has left behind; Yet, though hope die, faith lives in hope's despite. Ay, with hearts fixed on death and hopeless hands We stand about our banner while it stands Above but one field of the ruined lands; Cry wellaway, but well befall the right. Though France were given for prey to bird and beast, Though Rome were rent in twain of king and priest, The soul of man, the soul is safe at least That gives death life and dead men hands to smite. Are ye so strong, O kings, O strong men? Nay, Waste all ye will and gather all ye may, Yet one thing is there that ye shall not slay, Even thought, that fire nor iron can affright. The woundless and invisible thought that goes Free throughout time as north or south wind blows, Far throughout space as east or west sea flows, And all dark things before it are made bright. Thy thought, thy word, O soul republican, O spirit of life, O God whose name is man: What sea of sorrows but thy sight shall span? Cry wellaway, but well befall the right. With all its coils crushed, all its rings uncurled, The one most poisonous worm that soiled the world Is wrenched from off the throat of man, and hurled Into deep hell from empire's helpless height. Time takes no more infection of it now; Like a dead snake divided of the plough, The rotten thing lies cut in twain; but thou, Thy fires shall heal us of the serpent's bite. Ay, with red cautery and a burning brand Purge thou the leprous leaven of the land; Take to thee fire, and iron in thine hand, Till blood and tears have washed the soiled limbs white. We have sinned against thee in dreams and wicked sleep; Smite, we will shrink not; strike, we will not weep; Let the heart feel thee; let thy wound go deep; Cry wellaway, but well befall the right. Wound us with love, pierce us with longing, make Our souls thy sacrifices; turn and take Our hearts for our sin-offerings lest they break, And mould them with thine hands and give them might. Then, when the cup of ills is drained indeed, Will we come to thee with our wounds that bleed, With famished mouths and hearts that thou shalt feed, And see thee worshipped as the world's delight. There shall be no more wars nor kingdoms won, But in thy sight whose eyes are as the sun All names shall be one name, all nations one, All souls of men in man's one soul unite. O sea whereon men labour, O great sea That heaven seems one with, shall these things not be? O earth, our earth, shall time not make us free? Cry wellaway, but well befall the right.