Let us never leave our country For so long a time Let us visit it often We’re going far away To seek a better life But living, that’s in our country
This land of fishermen and peasants Corn in the mortar, morna on the lips Sandals on the foot, the donkey carrying its firewood Three stones to support the pot
Although our country is poor We console ourselves Another’s joy doesn't deceive me We have none and we understood it Our kindness hides our poverty