My sight is a blurred skyline
The blue stream its head inclines

Doubt's river-like
Made with cold blood
My will's the [bad word] 
That stops the flood
When anguish grows
It overflows so slow

When I have just done my best
I say: Alea jacta est
I've made up my mind
With my troops behind
The eagles are shadowing the west!

I see the river
And know I have to cross

Waters carries past with them
 [bad word] back yet

bitter stone like round distress
Suddenly I take and toss

Gushes flow with scum light red
Omen of a fast end

When I have just done my best
I say: Alea jacta est
I've made up my mind
With my troops behind
The eagles are shadowing the west!

Doubt!
After reflecting I shout:
Eagles of the war, march on!
Water hasn't got return when it is gone