No És Això, Companys

This isn't it, friends, this isn't it
for which so many flowers died,
for which we cried so many longings.
Maybe we need to be brave again
and say no, my friends, this isn't it.

This isn't it, friends, this isn't it,
nor words of peace with clubs,
nor the trade made with our rights,
rights that are, that neither create nor destroy
new bars in the form of laws.

This isn't it, friends, this isn't it;
they'll tell us now we must wait.
And we wait, surely we wait.
It's the wait of those who won't stop
until we no longer have to say: this isn't it.