When I was just a child in the Antilles
My father dressed me as a sailor,
And I crossed 90 sea miles
To start my life as a foreigner.
Fleeing from the sickle and those in green,
I ran away from an absurd ideology,
Since I never wanted to be swallowed
By hatred, rancor, and apathy.
I brought a hummingbird in the suitcase,
A book by Martí, a danzón, a dream.
Beny Moré came as a stowaway
Along with the Matamoros and Cumin.
I brought a palm tree and a hut
And even relocated Pinal del Rio
In my humble lodging
On the Twelfth Avenue of knowledge.
That’s where the harsh reality began,
Of everyone who threw the rope
To survive outside their language,
their customs, and their identity.
It happened what had to happen.
From my new city, I took its shelter,
For resignation was a faithful friend
Of the man who must emigrate.
And despite the distance and the attack
of the rigid almanac, I lived with the luck
Of feeling Cuban until death
And being a lover of freedom.
Today, my people live excited.
I feel inspired when I sing a song
Announcing to all my brothers
That our day is coming.
It’s coming
Already the whole world is waiting for it
It’s coming
Beautiful and exquisite Cuba
It’s coming
Because we are a people that sing
It’s coming
I want to see my flag fly, Cuba awaits us
It’s coming
I will sing the song from my heart.
It’s coming
In the gazebo of the park and Consolation.
It’s coming
Every day, I love you more, my beautiful Cuba
It’s coming
From San Antonio to Maisí, for Maceo and Martí
It’s coming
FREE CUBA!
From “Our Day is Coming Already,” by Willy Chirino
I promenaded by Victoria Beach in Cadiz, Spain, when I saw this Cuban gentleman singing Caribbean songs to a small crowd of passersby. Some were dancing. He looked like my Cuban friend Pedro Perez, and even his kind demeanor reminded me of him. Pedro was a professional pianist who sang with passion his Cuban music. Generous, he enjoyed adding his musical touch to my book presentations. Unfortunately, death snatched him from us recently. I did not call him often, but it comforted me that he was always on the other side of the line, ready to answer with loving words. In our minds, let’s hear Pedro’s rendition of this poetic song—a cry of freedom for his homeland. I dedicate this humble English translation to him.
Original lyrics in Spanish:
Apenas siendo un niño allá en la Antilla
mi padre me vistió de marinero
tuve que navegar 90 millas
y comenzar mi vida de extranjero.
Huyéndole a la hoz y al verde olivo
corriendo de esa absurda ideología
pues nunca quise ser aperitivo
del odio, del rencor y la apatía.
En la maleta traje un colibrí
un libro de Martín, un sueño y un danzón.
Vino Beny Moré de polizón
junto a los Matamoros y a Cumin.
Me traje una palmera y un bohío
y hasta Pinal del Rio lo relocalizé
en mi humilde lugar de alojamiento
por la doce avenida del saber
Ahí empezó la dura realidad, ¡Ay Dios!
de todo el que se tira la maroma
de sobrevivir fuera de su idioma
de sus costumbres y su identidad.
Pasó lo que tenía que pasar.
De mi nueva ciudad tome su abrigo,
pues la resignación es fiel amigo
del hombre cuando tiene que emigrar.
Y pese a la distancia y el ataque
del rigido almanaque yo vivo con la suerte
de sentirme cubano hasta la muerte
de ser amante de la libertad
Hoy que mi pueblo vive ilusionado
yo me siento inspirado y un son estoy cantando
anunciandole a todos mis hermanos
que nuestro día ya viene llegando
Ya viene llegando.
Ya todo el mundo lo está esperando.
Ya viene llegando.
Ay, Cuba hermosa y primorosa.
Ya viene llegando.
Porque somos un pueblo que va cantando.
Ya viene llegando.
Quiero ver volar mi bandera, Cuba nos espera.
Ya viene llegando.
Voy a cantar mi canción de corazón.
Ya viene llegando
en la glorieta del parque y la Consolación.
Ya viene llegando.
Cada día yo te quiero más mi Cuba bella te quiero más.
Ya viene llegando.
De San Antonio a Maisí por Maceo y por Martín.
Ya viene llegando.
CUBA
¡LIBRE!
