Here you will find the Poem Armageddon of poet Leon Gellert
The world rolls wet with blood, and the skinny hand of Death gropes at the beating heart. The salt tears well and flood with strife the choking breath, and nations sway and part. The scythe of Time runs red, red with the bleeding year. Sound is but a knell, and Sleep has a scarlet bed. Dreams are wet with Fear, and Honour sits in Hell.
