Antony's men impeach of king:
Whores and drinks, feasts and plague.
They are rebels: they must die
Through the fire and the lake!

Pestilence hits each yard,
Land moans from the Crosses,
I have never seen the awful struggle:
Nature fights the losses!

Damp grave is near,
Kind is dead, no fear!
Dead Single King!

I swallow restive air,
Sword has never been in hand,
Until I watch the spirit,
The spirit of the king.

We cross our swords
And burn the night of secrets,
But king becomes a smoke,
Easy spirit is upon liquid!

Damp grave is near,
Kind is dead, no fear!
Dead Single King!

So brutal is the dance of Nature,
So sudden is the wind of changes.

Devoted slave,
Vicious fame,
I keep king's sword.
Recall true words,
Dead Single King!

You are dead! Your soul is in eternity!