That Doverove

That Doverove (English: the confidence) is a Lovian book written by Michál Ilava in 1895. The original version is written in Oceana. Oos Wes Ilava translated it to English in 2007.

English version
Because the book has many hidden secrets in its text, most of the contents is literally translated. The book starts with the following introduction:
 * There she is! The whore with fifteen pustules on her face. She's riding through Bratislave on a wounded horse. Under the trees the smell of unvictorious glory can be tasted. Where the roots of the willow and the lime tree meet and become one, she is waiting, but not on men. Where the lights of darkness join the road of death and the sparks of fire lighten up our town, she is waiting, but not on men. The crumpled lands of the toe of a nation are not hers. Her look is penetrating. She doesn't want to show her weakness, even though she is the weakest of all. Screaming words of unknown origin, whose meaning can't be found out. She does not belong here, this is not her place. Up there, behind the highest eyes, where the trees are like hair, she lives. She is afraid, she does not want to be alive. It wasn't her choice to live, she hasn't made herself. Far away, where she found birth, the dictators of the unknown rule. Those who say that all of their sins and bad ideas weren't theirs. They will be punished, they won't survive the apocalypse of the new earth. Earthquakes will soon follow and all bad names and all bad people will be washed away. Major floods will soon arrive. They will kill everybody who is lazy and does not work. Everybody with lots of money, with lots of eyes, pointed at their backs. And the whore she watches, she watches how day becomes night. Her voice is soundless. The look in her face can tell more than a million of her lies. She is waiting, but not on men.