Yo soy un hombre sincero
De don de crece la palma
Yo soy un hombre sincero
De don de crece la palma
Yantes des morirme guiero
Echar mis versos del alma
I'm just a man who is trying
To do some good before dying
To ask each man and his brother
To bear no ill toward each other
This life will never be hollow
To those who listen and follow
I write my rhymes with no learning
And yet with truth they are burning
But is the world waiting for them?
Or will they all just ignore them?
Have I a poet's illusion
A dream to die in seclusion?
A little brook on a mountain
The cooling spray of a fountain
Arouse in me an emotion
More than the vast boundless ocean
For there's a wealth beyond measure
In little things that we treasure