XX I wake up. – Above me, a terrible woman Sang her enchanting incantations. "Your homeland – she screamed – is dead, I alone live… and you, instead of a coffin, Had my existence. – Covered in ashes And fertilized by dust and bitterness I created you, so that you would be the avenger! Son of ashes, named Popiel… XXI "You stay alone… but the attributes Of your parents will fill you… and I will give you two souls On the right will be a golden angel, On the left, one of blood and bitterness; Those two… you the third… and my voice as thunder, Rushing towards revenge." – (…) I My sufferings and sincere torments, And the continuous battle against a band of devils, Their bright weapons and their solar shields, The niches filled with the betrayal of the serpent… I will say… the sentences filling eternity, That today over me lay the burden, So that I can sing of the failed deeds And the holy great wars of the holy spirits. (…)
— Juliusz Słowacki, The Spirit King, 1847