GUANTANAMERO
		------------

Guantanamera, my city, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, my city, Guantanamera

He was a man on the way 
He was undoubtedly a brother 
He had neither links, nor place 
And on the roads of the exile
 
    On the paths, in the places 
    He spoke to me about his city 

REFRAIN.

I am a sincere man 
From where the palm grows 
And before dying I want
To let my verses go from my soul 

    My verse is made of clear green 
    And of a carmine ignition 
    My verse is a wounded red deer 
    That looks for a shelter in the mount  

	On behalf of poor men in my land
	I want to take my chance 
	And the stream of the mountain range 
	Pleases me more than the sea 

REFRAIN.

There remains the whole land for me
But I did not ask so much 
When I crossed the border 
There was nothing more in front of me

    I went from stopover in stopover 
    Far from my native land 

REFRAIN.