Celtiberian citadel, overnight surrounded by the enemy
Judged and condemned by marcius' armies, the armies of Rome
Condemned for being loyal to their traditions
Their culture and their blood
Mountains of gold and silver
Mountains of women and children rose in the middle of the town
They elected to die before to fall in the invader's dominion
And to live without honour
Fifty warriors with a horrible destiny were entrusted to guard them
The unjust battle marched on
The invader's supremacy weakens by the celtiberian anger
d**h came over the warriors, a prideful d**h
Rivers of blood flew through flames and wealth
Astapa was burning
Flames of honour, collective suicide
Ashes of a great town which layer under the live coals
They decided to die with honour, neither to live like slaves
No valuable object reached the enemy's bloody hands
They only managed to decrease their army
Hundreds of romans died, many before the armoured resistance
The rest under the flames of their avarice
The wasteful blood feeds since centuries our thirst for revenge and fate
Marcius wins the battle but he lost much more
Between the strong walls of astapa