La Canción Con Todos

I go out to walk on the cosmic waist of the south. I step on the most vegetal region of the wind and light. As I walk, I feel all the skin of America on my skin and a river flows in my blood that releases its flow in my voice. Sun of High Peru, face of Bolivia, tin and loneliness. A green Brazil kisses my Chile, copper and mineral. I climb from the south towards the entrails of America and total, pure root of a scream destined to grow and explode. All the voices all, all the hands all, all the blood can be a song in the wind. Sing with me sing, Latin American, release your hope with a shout in your voice.
Embrace the Ecuador of light Colombia to the coffee valley. Cuba of high sound names in the wind the ancestral Mexico. Blue continent that in Nicaragua seeks its root so that the man fights from country to country for peace. All the voices all, all the hands all, all the blood can be a song in the wind. Sing with me sing, Latin American, release your hope with a shout in your voice.