Lamento Jarocho

Singing to the race, Jarochan race
Bronze race, scorched by the Sun
To those who suffer, to those who cry
To those who wait, I sing

Soul of a Jarochan born dark-skinned
Figure that moves with a hammock's sway
Flesh perfumed with kisses of sand
Afternoons resembling lacquer landscapes

Mouth where the lament trembles, sorrowful
Of an entire race full of bitterness
Soul of a Jarochan born brave

To endure all its misfortunes
To endure all its misfortunes