With the Word still wet in ink, the sun shone blinding and destructively upon the planet. Bewildered and clothed in a hairy sack, the moon tried to find her orbit through the darkness. On the horizon, with lights shining so festively, a big ship suddenly sank without any warning. After this, the world could never find her way back to her former prosperity. Listen, from the East comes the crying of a scared child, yes, with a large number of corpses lying and decomposing globally. So in death it is Judgment that is lying and stinking in rot, in victory.  

With the Word still wet in ink, a strange fire-hot, but also icy-cold wind is blowing around the earth. With the once cheerful chimes becoming softer and softer, the angel of fire begins to find his way destructively through towns and cities. While food supplies begin to shrink alarmingly, soldier-boots are marching to march-music, dutiful and obedient. Yes, before the pestilence will also let people drink from its bitter cup here.

With the Word still wet in ink, mankind stopped at once to travel and frolic around. The earth tore herself open abruptly, to mutilate herself further. So that she could, through this, cause man’s miserable abomination-cities and infrastructures to shrink into nothing. The sea found her way to low-lying areas along large coastal regions. And with the pulling back of her water, hundreds of thousands of corpses were lying and stinking among rubble.

With the Word still wet in ink, the Morning star began to shine twice her normal size in the cosmos. The governments, with their answers once so quick, their worn-out stories now began to sound watered down. Judgment carried on pouring from His bitter cup and man was obligated to drink it. Stumbling, the moon tried to find her way through the darkness, clothed in her hairy sack. Yes, while the sun, in anger, would shine warmer and brighter in destructive heat.