Navidad Negra
Folclor
Black Christmas
On the white beach
Of hot sand
On the white beach
Of hot sand
There's a rumor of cumbia
And the smell of aguardiente
There's a rumor of cumbia
And the smell of aguardiente.
Throughout the village
Beautiful altars are seen
Among cornfields and drums
They perform their songs
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The gaita laments
Drums sound
The gaita laments
Drums sound
On Christmas Eve
Of the fishermen
The night in its black suit
Has thousands of stars
And with moonbeams
It illuminates its altars
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The fisherman of my land
The canoes dance
Forming a line
The canoes dance
Forming a line
While the boatman sings
His heartfelt song
