Prague: The Golden City

Songs of gold, songs of blood used to lull your children: 

A captive with his lute overpowered a fortress, 

A man ever fighting in spite of his blindness, 

A prophet whose cause was pleaded by martyrdom.

But a stronger glory, a longer lasting one

Is ensured when it is proclaimed by mouths of stone

Singing an anthem that embodies hope and flames, 

A torch shining ahead of the proceeding train.

The fort and the castle watch over your secrets.

It matters little which prince enacts his edicts, 

If the Golem knocks when he deems the time has come.

And then, time's clotted gore shall boil, pulsed by a heart, 

A cry of victory o'er the river shall start, 

And the fool with the red star shall at last go home.