All eyeballs dipped in the vinegar of the bourgeoisie will become pickled eyeballs.
Tonight I embrace my homeland. Being blind would not matter as long as I could give my eyeballs to you.
I have embraced all the railways and all trains are still on the way to you. I have embraced all the oceans and all ships are still on the way to you. I have embraced all books and all histories are still on the way to you.
They seek my eyeballs so as to be able to see the second revolution.
For years they have been on alert, and the overflow of tears from their eyes has turned to vinegar. You are the tapper. You are the one who readies the holding vessels.
But why do you sharpen your spurs if not to pluck out my eyeballs?
If I become blind tomorrow, you will only be able to sell your vinegar to the proletariat.
Therefore, come this way. Be the eyes for our blind love, me and my homeland. Break your vessels at the Museum of the Revolution, which is only half completed.