La Toma del Morro

The night escapes in shadows,
Arica is sleepy;
the sand covers the silence
of determined footsteps.
Three regiments march,
towards death, towards glory;
with blood Morro waits:
That dawn weaves its history.

They are coming up the Morro,
those of the Third Line
and the Fourth on the left flank,
they play for blood, the curved blades shine
and amid the gunfire,
voices shouting 'let's go up!'.

The fog opens up,
like a combat curtain;
soldiers are climbing up,
raising their standards.
Those of the Fourth Line,
gain ground, lose their lives:
'We have to take the Morro,
let's go up!, let's go up!'.

They are reaching the summit,
the ones from the Fourth Line
and the last defenses
are falling, everything ends
and amid the gunfire,
voices shouting 'let's go up!'.
Bang, bang, paaa.