Every night the same --
you fight:
debate and argue, rage against
blind fate,
demand of God the justice
which you know to be your right.
Your faces flushed, exalted
in the lamplight,
purified by passion, you are angels,
you are children: you are innocents
at least for this one night.

You will not wait:
you will not compromise with heaven or with kings;
your hearts too full for patience,
and impatience gives you wings.

O brothers, brothers,
be mindful when you fly
through rain-wet streets (and I
fly with you, yes) to find and meet your bright and blazing chance
to seize the future with both hands,
to fight -- remember then the children who must live to see the light.