Anthem:
 
 

     recuerda las glorias y sufrimientos de la patria.
 
 

                                                        Sonido   Coro

                                                 Oh gloria inmarcesible!
                                                   Oh júbilo inmortal!
                                                  en surcos de dolores
                                                   el bien germina ya.

                                      I
                                Cesó la horrible
                                   noche,
                               la libertad sublime
                              derrama las auroras
                              de su invencible luz.
                              La humanidad entera
                               que entre cadenas
                                    gime
                                comprende las
                                   palabras
                               del que murió en la
                                    cruz.

                                                          II
                                                  Independencia! grita
                                                 del mundo americano;
                                                 se baña en sangre de
                                                       héroes
                                                   la tierra de Colón.
                                                Pero este gran principio:
                                                "el Rey no es soberano",
                                                resuena, y los que sufren
                                                  bendicen su pasión.

                                                                              III
                                                                      Del Orinoco el cauce
                                                                          se colma de
                                                                           despojos;
                                                                      de sangre y llanto un
                                                                             río
                                                                       se mira allí correr.
                                                                       En Bárbula no sabe,
                                                                      las almas ni los ojos,
                                                                        si admiración o
                                                                           espanto
                                                                        sentir o parecer.
 
 
 
 

                                       IV
                                A orillas del Caribe
                               hambriento un pueblo
                                     lucha,
                               horrores prefiriendo
                                 a pérfida salud.
                               Oh! si! de Cartagena
                                 la abnegación es
                                     mucha,
                                y escombros de la
                                     muerte
                                desprecia su virtud.

                                                          V
                                                    De Boyacá en los
                                                        campos
                                                   el genio de la gloria,
                                                   con cada espiga un
                                                        héroe
                                                     invicto coronó.
                                                   Soldados sin coraza
                                                   ganaron la victoria
                                                    su varonil aliento
                                                   de escudo les sirvió.

                                                                             VI
                                                                     Bolívar cruza el Ande
                                                                       que riegan dos
                                                                          océanos;
                                                                    espadas cual centellas
                                                                      fulguran en Junín.
                                                                     Centauros indomables
                                                                    descienden a los llanos,
                                                                    y empieza a presentirse
                                                                     de la epopeya el fin.
 
 
 
 

                                      VII
                              La trompa victoriosa
                              en Ayacucho truena;
                                y en cada triunfo
                                     crece
                               su formidable són.
                                En su expansivo
                                    empuje
                              la libertad se estrena,
                               del cielo americano
                              haciendo un pabellón.

                                                        VIII
                                                 La virgen sus cabellos
                                                  arranca en agonía
                                                 y de su amor viuda,
                                                 los cuelga del ciprés.
                                                     Lamenta su
                                                     esperanza
                                                  que cubre losa fría,
                                                 pero glorioso orgullo
                                                 circunda su alba tez.

                                                                            IX
                                                                    La Patria así se forma
                                                                    termópilas brotando;
                                                                   constelación de cíclopes
                                                                      su noche iluminó.
                                                                     La flor estremecida,
                                                                   mortal el viento hallando,
                                                                     debajo los laureles
                                                                      seguridad buscó.
 
 
 
 

                                                X
                                      Mas no es completa gloria
                                        vencer en la batalla,
                                      que al brazo que combate
                                         lo anima la verdad.
                                       La independencia sola
                                      el gran clamor no acalla:
                                       si el sol alumbra a todos
                                         justicia es libertad.

                                                                    XI
                                                           Del hombre los derechos
                                                              Nariño predicando,
                                                              el alma de la lucha
                                                              profético enseñó.
                                                              Ricaute en San Mateo
                                                              en átomos volando
                                                            deber antes que vida,
                                                             con llamas escribió.
 
 
 
 

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