Ô grand astre solaire
Heaven's radiant flare
Beamer of shine
Over all that is fine
Let us stand tall
And in fear not fall
At the dark-clod feet
—we are but meek—
Of chiefs whose philosophy
Makes pity a mockery;
Worshippers of ringed Saturn
—Chronos of the evil turn—
Who frustrate men's needs
—as is their wont indeed—
Through the Machiavellian act
Of twisting Present Day's facts
Whether covering the flaws
Of falsely waged wars
Or bringing under control
The mind of manipulable souls.
O Leaders of Mankind!
At length you will find
That Time's ruler—the Sun—
In the field of life cannot be undone.