You who govern Venus, where the disk is smooth and grey:
The Ulanovs rule your System—but you’re greater, far, than they!
Now as the laws are questioned and the police sloops blast and glide,
Mithras, lord of the planets, give strength to those who died.
You who govern mottled Earth, a disk of white and blue,
The doorway men knocked first at, and which many have passed through;
(Left behind some millions stumbling, g-force dulled and drowse)
Mithras, lord of the planets, keep us all true to our vows !
You who govern Mars, where rust has reddened the terrain,
There you died immortal; immortal there you rose again!
Where thin air and low g corrode the strength of gods of war
Mithras, lord of the planets, make them mighty as before!
Asteroid govenor and shepherd, where worlds cross and clash
And billions eke out life in caves of granite and of ash,
Subjected, spurned, though full of heart; tied by the Ulanov rope:
Mithras, lord of the planets, give our Revolution hope!
You who govern Jupiter, cold simulacrum star,
God of midnight spaces: here your truest faithful are.
Give us word that you will lead us rushing back into the Light
Mithras, lord of the planets, let us stand-up for your right!