Guantanamera [1966] [English translation]

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

He was a man on the run

He was without a doubt [like] a brother

He had neither connections nor a home

And on the roads of exile

Along the paths and in [divers] places

He'd speak to me of his town

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

I'm a sincere man

From where the palm tree grows

And before I die I want to

Pour out my soulful verses

My verse is of a pristine green

And of a fiery carmine

My verse is of an injured stag

Searching for a haven in the mountains

To the poor of the land

I want to pour out my luck

And the sierra's stream

Fill me with more joy than the sea

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

I still have the whole land

But I didn't ask for that much

When I passed the frontier

There no longer was anything before me

I'd go from layover to layover

Far away from my native home

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, my town, Guantanamera