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
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