Volveremos a la montaña

Come with me
come with me, hide.
Our chief is waiting,
hide.
We will walk at night,
we will gallop at night,
until we reach him.

Blow wind, north wind.
Hurricane, give us wings,
many wings to fly.
Cover with dirt the eyes
of the dogs that watch,
that slit throats, that kill.
There is
the Indian sun we seek, there it is.
Give me a rifle, captain.
The blood we shed
will guide our brothers
echoing in freedom.

We will return
to the north, to the south,
to the American Indian.
You and I with the guardian angel,
with the voice of Che Guevara
my rifle will shoot.