Remove the mask from your face!
The witching hour tolls:
The ghost arises from the grave
In league with the new day!
And you still thank the overlords
That they provide such amusements for you?
Despite the fact that their play is false, there drinks are poison,
Their words are lies?
Woe! To have ears and sight
And not to be allowed to see or hear!

You do not realize the deception [of the show]
That you, who were made monkeys of, hang about watching;
You continually hope, you hope for much,
And plague yourselves, freeze and go hungry.
There is still linen to be had, still bread
To feed you, to clothe you:
A word, a [single] word and your hardship
Could turn itself into joy!
Oh anguish, to carry a heart so full [within one's bosom]
And to have to grit one's teeth in mute rancour!

Proudly towers the stronghold's tympanum,
The soothsayers point
Upward and wish to extol to the whole world
The virtues of its mystical triangle.
The empire, the strength, the glory!
Gaze upward so that you do not perceive
How below the joint gapes widely,
And columns and hinges tremble!
Ha, to feel in your arm the powerful longing [for an object upon which to wreak vengeance] -
And yet not to be able to engage in a forceful stroke!