After defeat - not the first one, rising up visors
They pass, as in a dream, the last limits [borders].
By customs they smuggle their war cry
And the last bullet, which in one's mouth hides.
At the tables of compassion, they welter in fault (/wine)
And to strangers they sing about the One that will not perish. (x2)
Their blood saved, [they] give away to
Anyone who wants to merge them with an army.
They dye [their] uniforms, roam through countries
And sometimes they [also] shoot at each other.
Under any banner except the white [one]
They seek victory - shattered formations. (x2)
They come at night to strange women [(strange to them)],
And there, when they pass - boys will be born.
When they return, brought by yet another blizzard
They will see that they cannot understand their own sons.
So they write down for them, night after night - diaries
Untranslatable into other languages.
And [they] suffer when the victorious world laughs at them,
Oblivious that the wise
Does not laugh at a defeat. (x2)