Ven Bernabé

Bernabé, come to the ravine
Bernabé, come to the ravine

Because of you, Bernabé
but the party has already gone bad
you don't want to dance, you don't want to enjoy
hey, let the black people dance to the beat

Remember well, Bernabé
Manuel's house party
you started a fight, didn't want to dance
and everyone left the bongo, hey!

Remember well, Bernabé
you don't dance the bembé
(Bernabé, come to the ravine)
Bernabé, Bernabé,
Come here to the ravine to enjoy
(Bernabé, come to the ravine)

I sing to the race, the bronze race
jarocha race, scorched by the sun
to those who suffer, to those who cry
to those who wait, I sing

Soul of a jarocha born dark-skinned,
street that moves with sway, leaves marks
evening scented with kisses of sand
evening that complain, mother-of-pearl landscapes

Mouth where the plaintive complaint moans
of a whole race full of bitterness
soul of a jarocha born brave
to endure all misfortune