'Mother, the song of love becomes my ballad,
I would rather be stabbed by daggers than be ruled by a scoundrel.
I walked under the rain and the rain has drenched me,
And the summer as it rolled in has set ablaze my fires.
My life remains a price I would pay for freedom.
Mother...
Oh night, rouse the dewdrops from their slumber,
So that they bear witness to my wounds.
And the armies of the Occupiers have come round from every corner,
And the night witnessed Death as it took lessons from me.
The rifle of the mountains stands taller than the highest of peaks,
(I carry) The key to the Road of Hope
And I place my hopes in my fellow man.
O my people! O my heroes!
I would give up my own eyes for your sake.
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