Para Cantar He Nacido

I was born to sing, I am a song that the wind carries
Sometimes I sing in the tree that sheds its leaves in sorrow
Sometimes I drink from the fire
Words of spring

My blood sings inside
like the rain outside
the night sings and turns
its birds into stars
but when the people sing
they musicalize my veins

I never look at the rose
for its color of chimera
I look at it because it has
the blood of dreamers
because in its branches bloom
the hands of the one who sows

If the song does not rise
like the bonfire of fire
if it does not release the sorrows
of those on earth
it is useless for the voice
of the chacarera to sound

Just as the river sings
when the night blinds it
and without looking at its path
it follows its stone course
I sing to those who come
walking on the earth

My song is blue and stars
and a lit guitar
in its heart of town
life suffers and stirs
with the profile of its drums
the withered hopes

That's why I sing to the things
that life gives me
to the clay dolls
waving lost moons
to the stem with its thorns
and to the man with his wounds

If the song does not rise
like the bonfire of fire
if it does not release the sorrows
of those on earth
it is useless for the voice
of the chacarera to sound