Текст и перевод песни Totó La Momposina - La Cumbia Está Herida

La Cumbia Está Herida

Adoro mi cumbia, mis ríos, mis montañas
Adoro mi cumbia, mis ríos, mis montañas
Mi palma, mi luna, mis indios y mi cabaña.
Mi palma, mi luna, mis indios y mi cabaña.
Mis campos eran sanos, no estaban manchados
Mis campos eran sanos, no estaban manchados
Llegaron foráneos, con el graje en la mano.
Llegaron foráneos, con el graje en la mano.
La luna está roja, será porque sufre,
Como ave en congoja, que se sube, se sube.
Y al oír como suenan, escapar metralletas, al inocente condenan y nadie protesta.
Y nadie protesta, y nadie protesta y nadie protesta
No suenan tambores, temen por sus vidas
No suenan tambores, temen por sus vidas
Hay luto hay temores, la cumbia está herida
Hay luto hay temores, la cumbia está herida
La aves se han ido, alejan los lugares
La aves se han ido, alejan los lugares
Tan solo los nidos, pesares, pesares
Tan solo los nidos, pesares, pesares
La luna está roja, será porque sufre,
Como ave en congoja, que se sube, se sube.
Y al oír como suenan, escapar metralletas, al inocente condenan y nadie protesta.
Y nadie protesta, y nadie protesta y nadie protesta

Cumbia is Wounded

I love my cumbia, my rivers, my mountains
I love my cumbia, my rivers, my mountains
My palm, my moon, my Indians and my cabin.
My palm, my moon, my Indians and my cabin.
My fields were healthy, they were not stained
My fields were healthy, they were not stained
Foreigners arrived, with the petard in hand.
Foreigners arrived, with the petard in hand.
The moon is red, it is because it suffers,
Like a bird in anguish, that rises, rises.
And when you hear how they sound, escape machine guns, the innocent are condemned and no one protests.
And nobody protests, and nobody protests and nobody protests
No drums sound, they fear for their lives
No drums sound, they fear for their lives
There is mourning there are fears, cumbia is wounded
There is mourning there are fears, cumbia is wounded
The birds are gone, they distance the places
The birds are gone, they distance the places
Only the nests, sorrows, sorrows
Only the nests, sorrows, sorrows
The moon is red, it is because it suffers,
Like a bird in anguish, that rises, rises.
And when you hear how they sound, escape machine guns, the innocent are condemned and no one protests.
And nobody protests, and nobody protests and nobody protests