carpenters of revolution
being zealous and bold
they create a foundation
for the very brave new world

not an outer power forces
to mold bricks per every night -
dreams of liberty and justice
which are carved inside the mind

it's no use repeating prayers
damn the sermons - guns instead
price of victory not sacral
but more painful - blood and sweat

mourning for those who passed
longing for the new regime
look, another new-born project!
but tomorrow still seems dim

screaming out for revolt and
scratching walls of prison cell
sending letters to your comrades
but the inner sense is swell

nothing helps to get away with
not to be devoured in storm
revolutionary duty
is fulfilled - and that is all

your audacity is ruined
element is merciless
future's nothing but a scaffold
strike of clock - and - emptiness

and escape does not mean safety
you'll be stabbed with a knife
poisoned or whatsoever
***
no one here gets out alive.

P. S. My earliest recollection of Mazzini is the memory of seeing my cousin Mary Catherine Boole burst into tears one day while reading the newspaper, and sobbing: "Mazzini's dead". She had never seen him, but this is the way many English persons felt about Mazzini.
<...> Mazzini wrote, concerning his youth: "I childishly determined to dress always in black, fancying myself in mourning for my country". This also seems to have made a great impression on me, because I too in my youth went through a period of dressing in black, in mourning for the general state of world: there is an indication of this phase of my life in "The Gadfly": "She (Gemma) was dressed in black, and had thrown a black scarf over her head... To Arthur she seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning for the lost Republic". (c) E. L. Voynich "Some notes on the genesis of "The Gadfly".