My grandparents told me
that a long time ago
A canoe navigated
in the Cesar1
That would depart from
the old port at El Banco
To the beaches of love
in Chimichagua.
Dodging the gale,
it would tremble,
And impassively challenge the storm
And an army of stars would follow it,
Studding it with light and with legend.
It was the canoe
of Guillermo Cubillos,
It was the canoe,
It was the canoe. (x2)
Twelve rowers with skin
the color of Majagua2
And with them
the fearsome Pedro Albundia.
At night
they would extract from their oars
A melodic roar
of a beautiful cumbia.
Twelve shadows, now old,
no longer row;
The wood no longer creaks
in the water.
All that is left
are memories in the sand
Where the
canoe now lies dozing.
It was the canoe
of Guillermo Cubillos,
It was the canoe,
It was the canoe. (x2)
It was the canoe, it was the canoe(2Xs)
It was the canoe
of Guillermo Cubillos,
It was the canoe,
It was the canoe. (x2)
The canoe, the canoe, the canoe...
1. Cesar river in Colombia2. A tropical tree used to make canoes