Never say you are going on your final road,
Although leaden skies block out blue days,
Our longed-for hour will yet come
Our step will beat out - we are here!

From a land of green palm trees to the white land of snow
We arrive with our pain, with our woe, 
Wherever a spurt of our blood fell, 
On that spot shall spurt forth our courage and our spirit.
 

The morning sun will brighten our day
And yesterday will disappear with our foe.
But if the sun delays to rise at dawn,
Then let this song be a password for generations to come.

This song is written with our blood, not with lead,
It is not a song of a free bird flying overhead.
Amid crumbling walls, a people sang this song,
With grenades in their hands.

So, never say the road now ends for you,
Although skies of lead block out days of blue.
Our longed-for hour will yet come - 
Our step will beat out - we are here!