La Malanga (Guajira)

Here the malanga grows
Rich succulent delicacy
And to the soft wind's whisper
The rich sugarcane sways
The sesame seems
Rich pilgrim carpet
The reclining mamey
And towards the branch it touches
It seems like the sweet mouth
Of my Angélica Rufina

In a small pasture I entered
I met an Indian
Her name was Juliana
I don't know her last name
I let go of my horse
I greeted her good afternoon
And I said: I come here
I come looking for the oxen
And she replied: Oxen
You are looking for me

I like in the morning
After drinking coffee
To walk around Havana
With my lit cigar
Then I sit in my chair
In my big chair

And I grab a big piece of paper
One of those they call newspapers
And I look like a millionaire
One of those from the town