The chosen ones emerge from the rotten fruit
dazzled by a sudden light .
They hide behind the rock
that will denounce them .
They aspire to the humble anonymity
that marks them with a star .
The chosen ones walk
through the streets of Warsaw and Paris
towards some unknown destination ,
faceless common souls ...
The chosen ones believe that the ocean
is their friend opening its roaring mouth
to swallow up the enemy ,
but on the waves they will float
like mumies of salt ...
The chosen ones rejoice
that god is their father ,
protecting them with iron armor .
But even the dogs don\'t look at them anymore...
The chosen ones convert the olive tree
with the blood of the little child ...
But the trumpets will sound
when the temple is rebuilt
from their bones ...
Faced with the accusing fingers of the nations,
the mask will fall and the chosen ones
will find themselves like naked kings ...