Guantanamera The Weavers
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Guantanamera" by The Weavers. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas
Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas
Y antes de morirme quiero echar mis versos del alma
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es un ciervo herido que busca en el monte amparo
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
I am a truthful man from this land of palm trees
Before dying I want to share these poems of my soul
My verses are light green but they are also flaming red
I cultivate a rose in June and in January
For the sincere friend who gives me his hand
And for the cruel one who would tear out this heart with which I live
I do not cultivate thistles nor nettles I cultivate a white rose
Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero
Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero que me da su mano franca
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas
Yo soy un hombre sincero, de donde crecen las palmas
Y antes de morirme quiero echar mis versos del alma
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es de un verde claro y de un carmin encendido
Mi verso es un ciervo herido que busca en el monte amparo
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
Guantanamera, guajira, Guantanamera
I am a truthful man from this land of palm trees
Before dying I want to share these poems of my soul
My verses are light green but they are also flaming red
I cultivate a rose in June and in January
For the sincere friend who gives me his hand
And for the cruel one who would tear out this heart with which I live
I do not cultivate thistles nor nettles I cultivate a white rose
Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero
Cultivo la rosa blanca en junio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero que me da su mano franca
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