mud sweat

Then they will hear

From behind bars your voice

They will hum melodies

To defeat you

They will appoint themselves

Judge and executioner

Rather, they will falsely seek your mercy

They are the thieves

Your joy

Your passion

And your renaissance

O you who are raised on the summits

Awaken your slumber

For the proud country

Needs a loud voice

Needs your tuning

Return to the hills of glory

Return with you

Thousands of lost victims

On your way back

Return with the clove and bamboo stick

With the sunlight

With the stalks of wheat clothed

Your heroine

O woman

From the plant of the earth

And the sweat of the clay

And the features of your joy

I am the lyre of your glory, so set out

To the plains of promising love

Flowing

Prose

A melody

From your rhythm