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A drop of blood falls from heaven. Under a red sunglow, it changes into gall bitter stuff. I see six young nuns paying with their lives. Over this, the Knave of Spades lifts his hat self-complacently. I see young men fleeing cowardly, even on foot. They are too feminine to rave themselves out as soldiers in a war. I see how Mother Russia greets them with a joyful wave. While she calls: “Oh farewell, I am rid of these useless ones.”   

I see over and over how the West then begins to pay. While heaven also visits Europe and America with destructive judgment scales in cataclysms. I see a volcano spewing pitch-black soot.  I see a tsunami at unprecedented speed. I see flood upon flood. But I also see a prophetic request, for a terrible drought over a continent cursed for ever. A strange pitch-black hook descends from heaven now. The bait on it is congealed human blood. I see how the vultures of heaven examine it.     

Then they begin to gather around it voraciously. I know that the names of the victims of this do not appear in the Book of Life. I see a nuclear explosion in a snow-white smoke column that rages high into the sky. I hear a voice calling: “This bomb is called: It Must.” Again I see a drop of blood falling from heaven. It changes into a river that floods its banks, bloody and frothing. Then I see homo sapiens with broken courage, also over the new deadly pestilence that will visit mankind.