Pure, Chile, is your blue sky.
Pure breezes blow across you.
And your flower-lined countryside
Is the happy image of Eden
Majestic is the white mountain
That the Lord gave you as a fortress
That the Lord gave you as a fortress
And that sea that calmly bathes you
Promises you a future splendour
Promises you a future splendour
Sweet Homeland, receive the vows
That Chile swore for your sake:
Or you'll be the tomb of the free*
Or the shelter against oppression
Or you'll be the tomb of the free
Or the shelter against oppression
Or you'll be the tomb of the free
Or the shelter against oppression
Or the shelter against oppression
Or the shelter against oppression