These are my translated lyrics of Calle 13’s ‘Latin America’ – a continent in resistance, in rebellion, re-asserting its beautiful, diverse, colourful, and courageous identity, free of US and European dominance
I am. I am what they left behind, I am the leftovers of what they stole,
A town hidden on the peak,
My skin is made of leather, that’s why it withstands any climate.
I am a factory of smoke,
Country labour for your consumption,
A cold front in the middle of the summer,
“Love in The Times of Cholera” my brother!
The sun that is born, and the day that dies
with the best sunsets,
I am progress in flesh and blood,
An uncontaminated political speech,
The prettiest faces I have ever known,
I am the photograph of a forcibly disappeared person,
The blood in your veins,
I am a piece of land that is worthwhile
A basket of beans,
I am Maradona against England scoring two goals,
I am what holds up my flag,
The planet’s backbone is my mountain range.
I am what my father taught me,
He who does not love his homeland does not love his mother,
I am Latin America
A nation without legs that walks nonetheless.
You can’t buy the wind,
You can’t buy the sun
You can’t buy the rain,
You can’t buy the warmth,
You can’t buy the clouds,
You can’t buy colours,
You can’t buy my happiness,
You can’t buy my pain.
I have lakes, I have rivers,
I have teeth for when I smile,
The snow that paints my mountains,
I have the sun that dries me and the rain that bathes me,
A desert drunk with beauties on pulque,
To sing with the coyotes,
Everything I need!
I have my lungs breathing light blue,
The suffocating height,
I am the molars of my mouth
chewing coca leaves,
Autumn with its fainted leaves,
Verses written under the starry nights,
A vineyard ripe with grapes,
A cane field under the sun in Cuba,
I am the Caribbean sea watching over houses,
Performing rituals with holy water.
The wind that combs my hair,
I am all the saints that hang from my neck.
The juice of my battle is not artificial because the fertilizer of my land is natural.
(chorus in Portuguese)
You can’t buy the sun
You can’t buy the rain
We’re walking, we’re drawing the path ahead
You can’t buy my life
My land is not for sale.
I work without finesse, but with pride,
Here we share,
What’s mine is yours.
The people don’t drown in the waves, and if they are toppled, I rebuild them.
Nor do I blink when I look at you,
So you remember my surname.
Operation Condor invading my nest,
I forgive but I never forget
Here one breathes the struggle
I sing to be heard
Here, we’re standing up
Long live the Americas!
You can’t buy my life.