In my town the moon is so big and so beautiful that the roosters wake up to sing to it. In my town hope is like the tide
or the passing cloud
with its wet footprint.
In my town men
have taken sides
some for life
others against themselves .
But the wild land
the path is giving birth
in which all the steps
carry a single rhythm.
With the perfume of oreganal
the path is It will fill
if the summer is very long
there will always be the shadow
of some guayacán. (bis)
My town is Juan Bariaca
and it is Tulio Guariato
it is Rafael Primera
the old querendón
and they are the mother hands
of all the jars
and it is the thorny
and sweet fruit of the cardón.
My people every day
cleans and purifies themselves
there has been no bitter pill
that kills their joy
is stretched out there
by the sun and the breeze
that brings us the perfume
that gives the semerucal.
My people every day
has a lot what to give (bis)

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