Guantanamera

Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crece la palma
Y antes de morirme quiero
Echar mis versos del alma
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
I am an honest man
From where the palm tree grows
And before dying I want
To share the verses of my soul.

Mi verso es de un verde claro
Y de un carmín encendido
Mi verso es de un ciervo herido
Que busca en el monte amparo
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
My verse is a clear(light) green
And it is flaming crimson
My verse is that of a wounded deer(servant, slave)
Who seeks refuge in the woods.

This third verse of “Versos Sencillos” is usually not part of the song

Cultivo una rosa blanca
En junio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca
Guantanamera, guajira Guantanamera
I cultivate a white rose
In June as in January
For the sincere friend
Who gives me his honest hand.

Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazón con que vivo
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo
Cultivo la rosa blanca
Guantanamera, guajira Guantanamera
And for the cruel one who would tear out
the heart with which I live
I cultivate not nettles nor thistles
I cultivate the white rose

Final verse of song, as published:

Con los pobres de la tierra
Quiero yo mi suerte echar
El arroyo de la sierra
Me complace más que el mar
Guantanamera, guajira Guantanamera
With the poor people of the earth
I want to cast my luck
The brook of the mountains
Pleases me more than the sea

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