El Cantor de Bolívia
Ali Primera
The Singer of Bolivia
His blood was a poem
and hugged his heart
And it was formed with verses
For your land a flower
And marched towards the sacrifice
To burn it next to the sun
They were verses against bullets
And a bullet killed him
A bullet killed him
His body fell in the jungle
And his blood was spilled
And the cholos approached
To raise your song
The cholos who sing it today
They brought it from the sun
They were verses against bullets
And his song did not die
And his song did not die
I'm following my path
I am aware of my luck
I'm retracing destiny
I am sure of my death
And how do I know that I die
I leave my song to the people
Because we men
Today we are tomorrow not
This is how the poet sang
This is how the minstrel sang
Not because they killed him
has stopped singing
They criticize the Indian
Because he chews coca
Without taking him out for that
The gum from the mouth
The child is criticized
Why doesn't he bathe?
But let him go hungry
They are not surprised
His blood was a poem
and hugged his heart
And it was formed with verses
For your country a flower
His name was Benjo Cruz.
He was the singer of Bolivia
And marched towards the sacrifice
To burn your soul in the sun
