Doña Josefina

Mrs. Josefina
the fine sand of the Guajira
looks like a lyre
when it's stirred by the God of the winds.

What do you think, Mrs. Josefina?
in the Guajira
the Venezuelan sun
burns with love.

And that guitar made
with Sinamaica wood
painted harmoniously with music
the fabric of her soul.

And there will be no silence, Mrs. Josefina
as long as there's a breeze
singing in her palm
and while men
sing for the country.

Mrs. Josefina
her hot land is the swallow
that sells the country without love for her
they burn her wings.

What do you think, Mrs. Josefina?
if a united struggle
revives in the people
the liberating voice of the Liberator.