Povo que lavas no rio [English translation]

Folk who washes in the river

And timbers with your axe

The boards for my coffin.

There may be some who defend you

Who may buy your sacred ground

But not your life

I came to the round table

I drank from the bowl that hides

A kiss from hand to hand

It was the wine that you gave me

Pure water wild fruit

But not your life

Aromas of heather and mud

I slept with them in bed

I had the same condition.

Folk, I belong to you

You gave me the heights of incense,

But not your life

Folk who washes in the river

And timbers with your axe

The boards for my coffin.

There may be some who defend you

Who may buy your sacred ground

But not your life