Oh, Land of mine, of me, of my heart and entrails,
I feel your cry.
How you cry, a devouring song of sorrow,
told by the mountains and roared by the oceans.
Understood by thosw who do and ignored by those who don't
Spew form your entrails those whose arrows and bullets fly through the sky,
those who seek to harm your people, your lands, and your democracy,
Hear OH Lord, the cry of my land let your hand rise above and your Glory descend.
Let its pastures be, its oceans be, and its love be.
Seek to those who love and vomit those who hate,
Their vice and vileness corrupts purity:
Lord, from above eliminate the sorrow.
Oh lord this comes from a starnded Paisa,
such I am and such I will stay!