I sing to you, because I don’t believe
that you’re dead, Camilo.
I sing to you, because you’re alive
and not because you’re dead.
Because you live in the hearts 1
of the people you loved,
in the smiles of the children
and in the greenness of the palms.
I sing to you, because you’re alive, Camilo,
and not because you’re dead. (bis)
Because you live, you avenger,
in the rough and smooth iron
of the peasants’ machetes
and of the rifles of the workers.
Because your presence lives
among the people who listen to you,
because you still fight,
fight for the independence.
I sing to you, because you’re alive, Camilo,
and not because you’re dead. (bis)
Because you live, soldier,
for the motherland, always awake,
because you live in schools,
in the soil and in the plough.
Your sweet face lives
on the star of the Cuban flag,
lives in the agrarian reform
and in the dreams of Fidel.
I sing to you, because you’re alive, Camilo,
and not because you’re dead. (bis)
You will live in the fight
of your insurgent arms, 2
if on the pathway of our fatherland
a bad idea appears.
And later, noble and calm,
the same as at that time,
you will hear again Fidel
asking: “Am I right, Camilo?
1. Literally: "souls".2. Guerrilla arms.