| To the victor goes the spoils
|
| Sound the drums of war
|
| Raising high our banners
|
| The legion marches forth
|
| On a trail of conquest
|
| We are the sons of Mars!
|
| We desecrate their shrines
|
| Annihilate their gods
|
| They burn
|
| The tomb of civilizations
|
| On the endless march
|
| We set afire the town
|
| All who oppose
|
| The gladius cuts them down
|
| They call out for mercy
|
| For refuge they seek
|
| But the deafening roar of battle
|
| Silences the weak
|
| They fall
|
| The fall of once-mighty nations
|
| The sick, the dying, the conquered, the slain
|
| Forget their faces, forget their names
|
| Vae victis
|
| Woe to the vanquished
|
| Cities fall to the barbaric horde
|
| Watch your family put to the sword
|
| After the conquest men are enslaved
|
| Children are butchered, the women are raped
|
| Waters that once gave life run red
|
| Your language, culture, way of life dead
|
| Each of your sons I shall murder at birth
|
| 'Til all of your people are wiped from the earth
|
| The tomb of civilizations
|
| The fall of mighty nations
|
| Woe to the vanquished
|
| The battle you have lost
|
| The blood that falls like rain
|
| Now your temples lie in ruins
|
| Your people are in chains
|
| Woe to the vanquished
|
| Woe to the vanquished
|
| Woe to the vanquished
|
| Your line dies with you |