My voice can fly, it can cross
Any wound, any time, any loneliness
Without being able to control it, it takes the form of a song
That's how my voice is, it comes from my heart

And it will fly without me wanting it
Through the farthest paths, through the dreams I dreamed

It will be a reflection of the love of what I lived
It will be the background music of all that I felt

Listen to my sound, my old sound
It holds the key to any generation
In the soul of my people, in the skin of the drum
In the hands of the conga player, in the feet of the dancer

I will live and I will be there
While a parade passes by, I will sing with my rumba
I will always be what I was, with my sweetness for you
I will live, I will live

And now I remember that time back
When I left searching for the sky of freedom
How many friends I left and how many tears I cried
I will live to meet them again

And I will continue with my song
Dancing hot music like I dance it
And when this northern sound plays and when this sound plays
In the blood of my people, in their body I will be

Listen to my sound, my old sound
It holds the key to any generation
In the soul of my people, in the skin of the drum
In the hands of the conga player, in Panteón Rococó

Listen to my voice, my old sound
It has the rage of any generation
In the soul of my people, in the skin of my nation
In the hands of the worker, in misery and heart

I will live, and I will be there
While I fight with a knife, I will join them
I will always be what I was, for my struggle for you
I will live, I will live

La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la (I will live)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (I will live)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
I will die

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