You are afraid of the wind Of the wind of war Because black it is the earth And great it is the complaint You are afraid of the sky Some sky and of the thunders And of those immense legions Of the black mantle You are afraid of the faces Covered by makeup By now they have already died Foolish poor man You are afraid to wait To die or to rejoice Of a glory without sense For a filthy escape Your sword doesn't betray you Your heart continues to beat And to say you that you have to fight Even if the fog is thickened It is not die for glory It doesn't rejoice for who die But who die with honor Has won the war!