Like a secret from the book of the dead,
From the borderlands a mariner.
He's sailing with the westerly winds
Followed by the hunting dogs of war.
And puppets tumble in the clouds
As he approaches with a shrieking sound,
With lethal goods, grey and bearded,
With the rain he's coming. Can't you hear him?
When he's beating with windmill's wings,
Looking through eyes of glass and steel,
For his name is «Enola Gay»
And his voice is like a prayer.
Early morning, the city's asleep,
The air raid rumbles from the deep.
It's not the light of illumination,
This is the light of ignorance.