Oubao Moin

The river of Corozal, the one of the golden legend.
The current drags gold. The current is bloodstained.
The Manatuabón River has the golden legend.
The current drags gold. The current is bloodstained.
The Cibuco river writes its name in golden letters.
The current drags gold. The current is bloodstained.
There a breeding ground was invented. There the fifth was paid.
The land was of gold. The land is bloodstained.
Where the grove sunk its roots in golden land,
there the branches drip blood. The grove is bloodstained.
Where the Indian bowed his head, be it land or water,
under the weight of the chain, among the irons of the ergastula,
there the land smells of blood and the water is bloodstained.
Where the black man broke his shoulders, be it land or water,
and his body bore the mark and the whip opened his back,
there the land smells of blood and the water is bloodstained.
Where the poor white man suffered the horrors of peonage,
under the overseer's machete and the workday notebook
and the abuse of the master, be it land or water,
there the land is cursed and the water runs poisoned.

Glory to those indigenous hands because they worked.
Glory to those black hands because they worked.
Glory to those white hands because they worked.
From among those Indian, black, white hands,
from among those hands our homeland emerged.
Glory to the hands that dug the mine.
Glory to the hands that tended the cattle.
Glory to the hands that planted tobacco, sugar cane, and coffee.
Glory to the hands that cleared the pastures.
Glory to the hands that cleared the forests.
Glory to the hands that rowed the rivers, streams, and seas.
Glory to the hands that worked the roads.
Glory to the hands that built the houses.
Glory to the hands that turned the wheels.
Glory to the hands that carried the roads and the cars.
Glory to the hands that saddled and unsaddled the mules and horses.
Glory to the hands that grazed the goat herds.
Glory to the hands that cared for the herds.
Glory to the hands that raised the chickens, turkeys, and ducks.
Glory to all the hands of all the men and women who worked.
Because they kneaded the homeland.
And glory to the hands, to all the hands that work today
because they build and from them will come the new liberated homeland.
The homeland of all working hands!
For them and for their homeland, Praise!, Praise!