Source

The poem reads:

That Day
On that day under heavenly skies
Flowers will sprout merrily on the earth,
And hawthorn blossoms will sweeten the air.
And every threshold will be crowned with
Olive branches to protect the handsome house,
Where love will bless the dance of life.
And every mother may suckle her child
In peace and happiness, giving to it the
Strength of her red mother’s blood;
In a pure, unspoiled manner she will weave
This hardy youth, who owes her his life,
An impenetrable coat of armor,
With words, which one day quivering lips
Will repeat, when death comes and when
Our mother’s eyes and face appear before us.
And no woman will have to force herself
By dint of exhausting women’s work
To leave the house and her child’s cradle.
Chosen to be goddess of the purest temple,
She leads the hero, born of her flesh and spirit,
Freely upwards towards the light.
And all are then brothers at heart
Through this religion of the mother’s womb,
Which created them in pain for sun and storm;
Brothers, in a dream, at work and at the harvest,
In the name of those, who throughout the world,
In every language, now and again and again,
With the same tender, loving tone,
And righteous gaze, the heart heavy with tears,
Whisper lovingly and forgiving: Oh, my son! . . . – Ada Neart

Translation: Richard Petit