Ropa blanca

Wash the clothes, mulatto,
sorrow and love.
The foam so white
looks like cotton.
Your hands so black,
shoe polish and coal.
Wash the clothes, mulatto,
sorrow and love.
They tell me that by the river
with the southern wind's breath,
your black Fanchico left
in a blue little boat.
You're washing and crying,
crying for his betrayal,
it's sad to keep loving
after love has gone.
They tell me that by the water,
and by the cane field,
and by the long street
they stole your heart.

Wash the clothes, mulatto,
sorrow and love.
Washing and scrubbing
with tears and soap,
remove the stains from your heart,
from your heart.
Wash the clothes, mulatto,
sorrow and love.

Washing the white clothes
with your hands of soot,
you think of that handkerchief
that your love embroidered.
Washing clothes on the shore,
the waves make you think
of the loves that one day,
just as they come, they go.
Don't cry, for by the river
and with the southern wind's breath,
maybe Fanchico will return
in a blue little boat.

The clothes dance in the air,
the wind makes them dance,
your sad and big eyes
only know how to shed tears,
oh... oh... who is it that in the afternoon
makes them cry, cry!

Wash the clothes, mulatto,
sorrow and love,
the foam so white
looks like cotton.
Your eyes so black,
shoe polish and coal.
Washing and scrubbing
with tears and soap,
remove the stains
from your heart.