Canta Zamba (Zamba)

When I hear the guitars playing zambas
Zambas, zambas
My heart lifts up and sings
Zambas, zambas

The memory of my holy mother
Sings, sings
And in the air, the white handkerchief
Sings zamba

Hills, rivers of your songs
The wind makes zambas
And on the branch of the talas, it whistles
Zamba, zamba

When a kid herding goats
I only feel
That the clink of the bells sings
Zambas, zambas

The nostalgia of that beloved age
You bring zamba
With the sorrow that life gives us
Zamba, zambas

Hills, rivers
Of your song, the wind makes zambas
And on the branch of the talas, it whistles
Zambas, zambas