L'emigrante [English translation]

I'm an emigrant who goes to make a living

Along the highway edge, through a dust cloud.

I'm an exile, that's the way the fate wants

For the sons of a wretched people to be.

But I'm willing to work hard out of some spite

To feed my family through sweat,

Through sweat.

I come from those plains where the sun crawls,

I was born in a small whitewashed house,

Whitewashed,

Whitewashed,

Whitewashed.

I belong to black-faced or sooty people,

One of those who died in war for all of you.

And what can I say, what can I do

If I can't make your God mine,

I can't make Him mine,

I can't make Him mine,

I can't make Him mine.

I know that when the world fate is cruel,

We all look up to the same Heaven.

But meanwhile, given that you call yourselves humans,

Take them in, even you, let's hold out our hand to them,

Let's hold out our hand to them,

Let's hold out our hand to them,

Let's hold out our hand to them,

Let's hold out our hand to them.