Uz Maršala Tita

Uz maršala Tita, junačkoga sina
nas neće ni pakao smest'.
Mi dižemo čelo, mi kročimo smjelo
i čvrsto stiskamo pest.

Rod prastari svi smo, a Goti mi nismo,
Slavenstva smo drevnoga čest.
Ko drukčije kaže, kleveće i laže,
Našu će osjetit' pest.

Sve prste na ruci u jadu i muci
Partizanska stvorila je svijest.
Pa sad kad i treba, do Sunca do neba
Visoko mi dižemo pest.

With Marshall Tito, the heroic son
not even Hell shall stop us.
We raise our foreheads, we walk boldly
and clench our fists hard.

Of an ancient kindred we are, but Goths we are not
Part of ancient Slavdom are we.
Whoever says otherwise slanders and lies,
will feel our fist.

All the fingers upon our hands, through misery and suffering
The Partisans awareness has created.
And now when we should, to the sun, to the sky,
We raise our fists high.

With great Marshall Tito, our land's bravest hero,
We'll be even stronger than Hell!
We raise our heads bravely, and not hung down gravely,
And clench our fists hard as well.

We're from an ancient tribe, but Goths we don't ascribe,
As we're children of ancient Slavs.
He who says otherwise merely slanders and lies,
And surely will face our wrath.

All fingers on our hands will fight to save our lands,
As the partisans are always spry.
When we die we don't cry to the sun or the sky,
We just raise our fists on high.

Уз маршала Tита, јуначкога сина
Нас неће ни пакао смест'.
Ми дижемо чело, ми крочимо смјело
И чврсто стискамо пест'

Род прастари сви смо, а Готи ми нисмо
Славенства смо древнога чест.
Ко друкчије каже, клевеће и лаже
Нашу ће осjетит' пест.

Све прсте на руци у јаду и муци
Партизанска створила је свијест.
Па сад кад и треба, до сунца до неба
Високо ми дижемо пест.