Cuecas Del Pañuelo
Isabel Parra
Handkerchief Cuecas
Why, why do you give me a handkerchief,
handkerchief, handkerchief, to cry?
Handkerchief, I would like a black one,
handkerchief, to start dancing.
Why, why do you give me a handkerchief?
I want it to dance, my black one,
along the path
that was watered with blood, brave,
of a companion.
Of a companion, yes,
brave, who there in the homeland
face to face with death,
brave, never bows.
Tricolor handkerchiefs,
take away pains from the soul.
Why, why do you give me a handkerchief,
handkerchief, handkerchief, to cry?
Handkerchief, I would like a white one,
handkerchief, to start dancing.
Why, why do you give me a handkerchief?
To dance with you, my black one,
because the homeland
is a long cueca, my black one,
that is unleashed.
That rise up, yes,
brave, skies and lands,
the mountain range will take its revenge,
brave.
