Guantanamera - Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie, Ronnie Gilbert

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas

Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas

Y antes de morirme quiero echar mis versos del alma

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido

Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido

Mi verso es un ciervo herido que busca en el monte amparo

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

I am a truthful man from this land of palm trees

Before dying I want to share these poems of my soul

My verses are light green but they are also flaming red

I cultivate a rose in June and in January

For the sincere friend who gives me his hand

And for the cruel one who would tear out this heart with which I live

I do not cultivate thistles nor nettles I cultivate a white rose

Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero

Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero

Para el amigo sincero que me da su mano franca

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Y para el cruel que me arranca el corazon con que vivo

Y para el cruel que me arranca el corazon con que vivo

Cardo ni ortiga cultivo cultivo la rosa blanca

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Con los pobres de la tierra quiero yo mi suerte echar

Con los pobres de la tierra quiero yo mi suerte echar

El arroyo de la sierra me complace mas que el mar

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

I am a sincere man, from where palms grow

I am a sincere man, from where palms grow

And before I die I want to pour out my verses from the soul

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

My verse is a light green and a lit carmine

My verse is a light green and a lit carmine

My verse is a wounded deer that searches the mountain for shelter

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

I am a truthful man from this land of palm trees

Before dying I want to share these poems of my soul

My verses are light green but they are also flaming red

I cultivate a rose in June and in January

For the sincere friend who gives me his hand

And for the cruel one who would tear out this heart with which I live

I do not cultivate thistles nor nettles I cultivate a white rose

I grow the white rose in June as in January

I grow the white rose in June as in January

For the sincere friend who gives me his frank hand

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

And for the cruel one who rips out the heart I live with

And for the cruel one who rips out the heart I live with

thistle nor nettle cultivation cultivation the white rose

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

With the poor of the land I want to throw my luck

With the poor of the land I want to throw my luck

The mountain stream pleases me more than the sea

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera

Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera