This is a triumph, mother, but without triumph, it does not hurt even the bones in the typhoon. This is the fatherland that you baptized, still my song does not rescue it. And when will be the day, I wonder when, that on the sterile land all the angry peasants come to sow. You have to turn back time as it was, the one who does not change everything does not change anything. This is a triumph, mother, of the new time, of being under the earth, the silence broke. This is a triumph, father, of joy, of your dream in seed. Life goes up, life goes up, up to the spire, that if the earth is female, the earth is mine. Where the dawn is born, I sow the day. You have to turn back time as it was, the one who does not change everything does not change anything.