Hace Falta Un Guerrillero

I'd like to have a son
Bright as a carnation,
Light as the winds,
To name him Manuel,
And surname him Rodriguez,
The most precious laurel.

As a child, I would teach him
What needs to be done
When they sell our homeland
As if it were a pin;
I want a guerrilla son
Who knows how to defend it.

The homeland already has around its neck
Lucifer's noose,
There's no soul to defend it,
Not worker nor mountaineer;
There are soldiers in abundance,
None like Manuel.

Rise from the grave,
Brother, we must fight,
Or they will process
The loss of your flag,
For in these eight million
There's no bread to slice.

My hopes are warmed
That my son will be born,
With a sword in hand
And Manuel's heart,
To teach the coward
To love and reciprocate.

Tears fall from my eyes
Thinking of the guerrilla fighter,
Like Manuel Rodriguez
There should have been five hundred,
But there's not even one worth
The trouble at this moment.

I repeat and say again,
Little sprig of rosemary,
Cowardly dogs killed
The guerrilla fighter in betrayal,
But they will never be able to kill him
In my thoughts.