The tyrants are marching, They are plundering us, They are fighting fiercely With their prison guns. We, with a strong spirit, Want to show you A gift, a gift, A gift from the tyrants. Let the weak go, They will tremble in front of you, They are selling shamefully Holy rights. But we will not be frightened By iron wounds. A gift, a gift, A gift from the tyrants. In the mines, on the roofs, Above the tank and on the field, Everywhere they spread Songs about freedom. And the sounds of songs Come to the throne. A gift, a gift, A gift from the tyrants. Under the blood-stained blood The charge burned, The last battle The storm was boiling. By the fires of rebellion The countries surrounded. A gift, a gift, A gift from the tyrants. © BF-WATCH TV 2021