The square, dressed in antique splendor,
was observing its new grey life:
like any other day, night fell,
usual phrases on the walls in Prague.
But then, the square halted its life
and the confused crowd briefly cried
until the violent, heinous flame,
like a shout, silenced any other voice.
The tanks stationed there look like hawks;
words spread on flushed faces,
sorrow spreads, burning every street,
and every wall in Prague is screaming.
When the square halted its life,
the wounded crowd was sweating blood,
when the flame with its black smoke
left the Earth and went up into the sky,
when everybody had their hands stained,
when that smoke spread out,
Jan Hus was being burned at the stake again
on the horizon in the Prague sky.
Tell me, who are those slowly-moving men,
with clenched fists and hate in their teeth;
tell me, who are those tired men,
[tired] of bowing their heads and [just] carrying on;
tell me who was carrying the body,
the entire city was accompanying him:
the entire city, silently, was launching
[a message of] hope into the Prague sky.
Tell me who was carrying the body,
the entire city was accompanying him:
the entire city, silently, was launching
[a message of] hope into the Prague sky.