The proud sons of the soil

If only they could read my poetry,
If they could hear our songs.
Our mothers cry, the respect and regard we have,
For the valor they showed, the spirit they had,
To not leave any stones unturned.

They fight like a real man and die as a real man,
They don’t take pride in disrobing women.
Neither do they try to lay hands on the weaker ones,
They are just the proud sons of the soil.