I'll dedicate my song to my homeland and my flag,
savannahs that I so love, daughters of the plains,
estuaries and morichal plants, paths and dustclouds,
with the sacred company of the room and the harp of the plains.
My plain, how pretty you are, how pretty it is to be a plainsman,
prarie that has birthed me and that I truly love,
let me give you a little bird in my song.
Aaay...
Little bird, little bird, you sing wherever you want,
we'll join the song to sing to Venezuela,
the land that births men and does not give them whatever they want,
of those who risk their lives, when they're called to defend it
like Bolívar did, he who was the liberator,
who fought tooth and nail to defend our land.
We who cannot do it as he did,
we'll do it singing, but with an arrogant voice,
so that the paths will boom, people will cross the borders
to keep high and watch our flag,
because since we were very small
to love, to love, and to feel our homeland Venezuela
runs through our veins.
Aaay...
As a tactic I'll change the theme for a cause,
so that folklore, the life of the Venezuelan, is not forgotten.
I'll join the list of famous folk singers,
and in my inspiration I name them to never forget them:
Carrao of Palmarito, a folk singer and good person,
Luis Lozada, "the one from Cubiro," veteran of the plains,
Ángel Custodio Loyola, an old famous singer,
and the magnificent Florentino, he who sings with the devil,
and the funny Simón Díaz for his famous horse.
I bid farewell for now to return I-don't-know-when
and to name more singers who still will live fighting
to defend the folklore and customs of my plain.