I’ve bridled my horse
and saddled him in gold.
We two, through this arid world,
Will dash away.

I have a cold heart, an unwavering gaze.
I love nothing and I fear nothing.
In its sheath, my saber chafes.
May it soon be drawn and strike true!

A turban around my head,
On my back, a white cloak,
I want to join the revelry
Where Death is in full howl;

A place where, at night, one torches the towns
While the inhabitants slumber,
Where, compared to the lowly masses,
One is greatest when one is strong.

I’d like, at the sound of my name, for monarchs
To hide their heads in their hands,
And for my saber to cut away the brands
Of servitude from the foreheads of humanity.

I long for the throng of my tents,
Of my long-maned horses,
For my dazzling banners,
My pikes, my tambourines,

They might be limitless, like a swarm
Of flies as the weather grows warm,
So that at my feet the whole universe bows,
Understanding how little they matter to me!