Chamamé a Cuba

One January afternoon I took my canoe for a spin
They told me to be careful, that with the storm I'd get lost
But I'm a tough guy from Corrientes, a skilled man in the delta
I set out as the first lights of dusk were coming in

When it was already dark as a wolf's mouth, I tried to head back
But the deceitful river pushed me to the seashore
And discouraged, unable to see the coast, to pass the time
I lay on my back counting little stars, lost in thought

I thought about how little a man is worth when he's all alone
But then I had an idea that made me react at that moment
I'll do something great like Vito Dumas, I'll be Marco Polo
And when I return to my land, all the girls will want to kiss me

And after a few days of sailing
I was overjoyed, thinking I was Christopher Columbus
And I felt sad when I saw the spot
That wasn't a whale but good land, what a joy

When I set foot on land and took a sniff to see if it was Corrientes
And saw a countryman with a shotgun, I asked him
If La Cambicha's ranch was far, he kindly said
You are in Cuba, socialist homeland, land of Fidel

I wanted to go back because of what I read in the newspaper La Prensa
But seeing the Cubans happily working for the future
Today the land belongs to everyone, there are no illiterates and even a child thinks
That whoever enters Cuba with warlike airs won't be able to leave

Because those rifles that yesterday aimed at the oppressed people
Are now being used by the people to defend their revolution
They are the ones in my land carried by military men with two last names
They are the ones we'll have like Moncho Raela, Jesusa, and Ramón

And with my canoe and my chamamé
I left Raúl Roa and set course back to my land
And to the people of Corrientes I will be loyal, and here I end
Long live Fidel, death to the Yankees!