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!