Five Hymns, August 1914, No 1- Rilke (France)

For the first time I see you rising, Hearsaid, remote, incredible War God. How very thickly terrible action has been sown Among the peaceful fruits of the field, action suddenly grown to maturity.

Yesterday it was still small, needed nurture, now it is Standing there tall as a man: tomorrow It will outgrow man. For the glowing God Will suddenly tear his crop Out of the nation which gave it roots, and the harvest will begin. 

At last a God. Since we were often no longer able to grasp The peaceful God, the God of Battle suddenly grips us, Hurling his brand: and over the heart full of homeland

Screams his crimson heaven in which, thunderous, he dwells.