Гимн
Part Two
TheyhadtornoutthetongueoftheTransgressor,sothattheycouldspeaknolonger.TheTransgressorwereyoungandtall.Theyhadhairofgoldandeyesblueasmorning.Theywalkedtothepyre,andtheirstepdidnotfalter.Andofallthefacesonthatsquare,ofallthefaceswhichshriekedandscreamedandspatcursesuponthem,theirswasthecalmestandthehappiestface.
Asthechainswerewoundovertheirbodyatthestake,andaflamesettothepyre,theTransgressorlookedupontheCity.Therewasathinthreadofbloodrunningfromthecorneroftheirmouth,buttheirlipsweresmiling.Andamonstrousthoughtcametousthen,whichhasneverleftus.WehadheardofSaints.TherearetheSaintsofLabor,andtheSaintsoftheCouncils,andtheSaintsoftheGreatRebirth.ButwehadneverseenaSaintnorwhatthelikenessofaSaintshouldbe.Andwethoughtthen,standinginthesquare,thatthelikenessofaSaintwasthefacewesawbeforeusintheflames,thefaceoftheTransgressoroftheUnspeakableWord.
Astheflamesrose,athinghappenedwhichnoeyessawbutours,elsewewouldnotbelivingtoday.Perhapsithadonlyseemedtous.ButitseemedtousthattheeyesoftheTransgressorhadchosenusfromthecrowdandwerelookingstraightuponus.Therewasnopainintheireyesandnoknowledgeoftheagonyoftheirbody.Therewasonlyjoyinthem,andpride,aprideholierthanisfitforhumanpridetobe.Anditseemedasiftheseeyesweretryingtotellussomethingthroughtheflames,tosendintooureyessomewordwithoutsound