Lyrics of La Cumbia Está Herida - Toto La Momposina

La Cumbia Está Herida (original)

Adoro mi cumbia, mis ríos, mis montañas
Adoro mi cumbia, mis ríos, mis montañas
Mi palma, mi luna, mis indios y mi cabaña
Mi palma, mi luna, mis indios y mi cabaña
Mis campos eran sanos, no estaban manchados
Mis campos eran sanos, no estaban manchados
Llegaron foráneos, con el graje en la mano
Llegaron foráneos, con el graje en la mano
La luna está roja, será porque sufre
Como ave en congoja, que se sube, se sube
Y al oír como suenan, escapar metralletas, al inocente condenan y nadie protesta
Y nadie protesta, y nadie protesta y nadie protesta
No suenan tambores, temen por sus vidas
No suenan tambores, temen por sus vidas
Hay luto hay temores, la cumbia está herida
Hay luto hay temores, la cumbia está herida
La aves se han ido, alejan los lugares
La aves se han ido, alejan los lugares
Tan solo los nidos, pesares, pesares
Tan solo los nidos, pesares, pesares
La luna está roja, será porque sufre
Como ave en congoja, que se sube, se sube
Y al oír como suenan, escapar metralletas, al inocente condenan y nadie protesta
Y nadie protesta, y nadie protesta y nadie protesta

(translation)

I love my cumbia, my rivers, my mountains
I love my cumbia, my rivers, my mountains
My palm, my moon, my Indians and my cabin
My palm, my moon, my Indians and my cabin
My fields were healthy, they were not stained
My fields were healthy, they were not stained
Foreigners arrived, with the graje in the hand
Foreigners arrived, with the graje in the hand
The moon is red, it will be because it suffers
Like a bird in anguish, that climbs, climbs
And hearing how they sound, escaping machine guns, they condemn the innocent and no one protests
And no one protests, and no one protests and no one protests
No drums beat, they fear for their lives
No drums beat, they fear for their lives
There is mourning, there are fears, the cumbia is wounded
There is mourning, there are fears, the cumbia is wounded
The birds are gone, they push away the places
The birds are gone, they push away the places
Just the nests, regrets, regrets
Just the nests, regrets, regrets
The moon is red, it will be because it suffers
Like a bird in anguish, that climbs, climbs
And hearing how they sound, escaping machine guns, they condemn the innocent and no one protests
And no one protests, and no one protests and no one protests