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Oh the day is hot and the night is cold. So, take your silver, your copper and your gold and exchange it for a handful of flour, for a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt. Bake a little bread for your neighbor with this, while you brew a little bit of beer for yourself. Rejoice in your small feast, and be stunned by your immense spiritual riches, in your material poverty.

Look, overnight the strong young men suddenly become crooked and very old and the young women know that their pregnancy was a gigantic mistake. Oh, the end-time day is immensely hot and the hearts beat tumultuously, scared and distressed. The nights, in turn, are bitterly cold and everyone scurries for a little bit of firewood. Yes, everyone fights desperately, just for a little bit of self-preservation.

Oh, the day is hot and the night is cold. In a meagre shelter in a wild hurricane wind, a little light burns hopefully but fluttering and weak. Look, there is no strong fortress, because the house was built on a weak foundation. Yes, because a volk liked herself too much in her disgusting haughtiness.

Oh the end-time day is bloody, boiling hot and the nights are icy cold. In the dry desert there is no cool shade from a green, leafy forest. Therefore there is also no firewood for the cold nights. With the mourning cloth already stitched on the sleeve, yes, in a volk’s great mourning, the big mass grave has already been dug also.

Oh the sun burns and the end-time day is unbearably hot, with the nights shivering cold. In the big rift, blood ties begins to hatefully snarl at each other, while many people exclaim surprised: Was this one really my child, my husband or my wife? Yes, while the governments of the world also begin to jeer defiantly at each other. And so the big madness war comes, and look, it is coming very soon.