2020.06.29.
Oh, Latvia!
Oh, Latvia where are your sonsScattered throughout the edges?
Some stay in hot war field
Some come home mutilated
Some mothers raise their son
For themselves in their thoughts
But then they look, already too late
It rests in peace in foreign trenches long
Not even one flower, not even one rose bud
Isn't put on his grave
Only lonely sun beams
Who greets him and beatify him
Oh, Latvia where are your sons
Scattered throughout the edges?
Some stay in hot war field
Some come home mutilated