| I sing to you, because it is not true | 
| That you died, Camilo | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive | 
| And not because you died | 
| Because you are alive in the soul | 
| From the town of your love | 
| In the laughter of children | 
| And in the green of the palms | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| Because you live, vigilante | 
| In the brave and fine iron | 
| of the peasant machete | 
| And from the worker's rifle | 
| Because your presence lives | 
| In the town that studies you | 
| Cause you're alive in the fight | 
| And I live in independence | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| because you are alive soldier | 
| For the country always on watch | 
| Cause you're alive at school | 
| In the land and the plow | 
| I live your honey face | 
| on the lonely star | 
| I live in agrarian reform | 
| And in Fidel's dream | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| I sing to you, because you are alive, Camilo | 
| And not because you died | 
| Alive will be in the fight | 
| Your guerrilla arm | 
| Yes, along the native path | 
| A bad idea pops up | 
| And then noble and quiet | 
| As in that moment | 
| You will hear Fidel again | 
| Ask, am I doing well, Camilo? |