Just let them reason, get their right
in words as if we are talking

about the same, yes just let them
shoot, the State will not give in

to violence, blood does not write
evidence, only facts

reveal truth:
foreigners and relatives besiege

us, they yell threats
and demands, forsake peace

But we've got nothing to lose
we have everything, victory

or heaven, and they will be forgotten
not even mocked for their foolishness

of coming to kill us in their delusion
to be happy afterwards. Like cadavers

after slaughter, they will lie in the field
eaten by hyenas, jackals, rats

and worms from the underworld
Children will play with the bones

I'm back, on my guard
in the streets of my youth
and the crying embrace

of amma and my sisters
on the banks where I've played
I won't leave here again

even if I have to fight for it
It is not in my hand
to die or to kill

No longer can I be an exile
a polite guest conforming
like a slave

I'm back, on my guard
in my own house, and you, brother
the oldest, you must be wiser

No king
can crown himself
at most he can be a servant