It is the thunder and it runs wild with inimitable roar.
A hundred and a thousand thunders explode,
and their song is profound.
They are the miners who arrive,
they are the miners of the people,
They are the men who dazzle
when they go out in the sun,
and they subdue the thunder.
What does it matter, what does it matter!
That shrapnel mows them
and dynamite explodes
and their bodies disperse
in particles of horror.
They come out of a cave
hanging on the mountain.
They are swarms of moles
that come to die
with no fear of the shrapnel.
To die, such a word
That is the north of their days;
ripped apart, anemized
slow agony
in the collapsed cave.
What does it matter, what does it matter!
Through the thunder's mouth
Courage is heard flying.
They are the steel miners,
they are the people and their pain.
A hundred and a thousand thunders explode,
and their song is profound.