Mi Patria

My homeland was willows, larches, and snow,
canelo trees in the dark, the flower of Pomaire,
a maiden of gypsum in the blue of the skies,
aromas floating among old volcanoes,
my homeland was willows, larches, and snow.

My homeland was songs on red guitars,
nostalgia in the rose that lights up the evening,
fiery dove burning its wings,
asleep in the fragrant smoke of the countryside,
my homeland was songs on red guitars.

Homeland, light, and flag
of raised fists,
you will bloom again,
you will be reborn.