A good land where the honey is in her veins
but blood flows in her rivers like water
a land where her mountains are copper
but her nerves are made of iron
a land whose pursuits of history is
two thousand and one pages long
until it soon burns
all the oxygen in her lungs
from the exertions of the pursuit
A land which is pursued by her enemies
and she chases her enemies in pursuit
she will catch her enemies, however her enemies
they won't capture her
she sees her life from the other side
is hung like a swinging leaf
she'll fear
but like she wasn't worried at all
she'll wait until the end of the pursuit
The end of the pursuit is hidden in a crevice
and shields its face in a hiding place, in a hiding place
however it will come to its end like the sun
when it'll come from the east
so that no more mothers will mourn
and also not the fathers for their sons
yes, it'll come
and our legs won't tire till then
to pursue the footsteps of hope