Turn, O Libertad, For The War Is Over, (From It And All Henceforth Expanding, Doubting No More, Resolute, Sweeping The World,) Turn From Lands Retrospective, Recording Proofs Of The Past; From The Singers That Sing The Trailing Glories Of The Past; From The Chants Of The Feudal World, The Triumphs Of Kings, Slavery, Caste; Turn To The World, The Triumphs Reserv'D And To Come, Give Up That Backward World; Leave To The Singers Of Hitherto, Give Them The Trailing Past; But What Remains, Remains For Singers For You, Wars To Come Are For You; (Lo! How The Wars Of The Past Have Duly Inured To You, And The Wars Of The Present Also Inure:) Then Turn, And Be Not Alarm'D, O Libertad, Turn Your Undying Face, To Where The Future, Greater Than All The Past, Is Swiftly, Surely Preparing For You.