The wind blows, the storm screams Broken shoes and yet we have to go To conquer the red spring Where the sun of tomorrow rises. To conquer the red spring Where the sun of tomorrow rises. Every street is homeland to the rebel, Every woman gives him a whisper, At night stars guide him, Strong his heart and his arm when it hits. At night stars guide him, Strong his heart and his arm when it hits. If the cruel death catches us Harsh revenge will come from the partisian, Already sure is the harsh fate Of the vile and treacherous fascist. Already sure is the harsh fate Of the vile and treacherous fascist. The wind stops and the storm quiets, The proud partisian comes back home, Waving his red flag Victorious, finally we are free. Waving his red flag Victorious, finally we are free.
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