Defensa del cantor

(Milonga)

"From a cage a song springs up,
"It's a goldfinch, it wants to fly."

Peach tree and cinacin
they point out the population;
police station and pantheon,
fences of stone and mist,
the population of Curtina,
the plaza with bienteví,
the gurí's little field,
few walls and walls,
many dark clods;
the singer came from there.

"This little bird is not for decoration
to no cage, but to fly."

Curtina or Tacuarembó,
dunes of San Gregorio,
in sorrow or joy
that boy sang;
and on his guitar he flew,
I don't know how,
wooden bird
with the sound of a blackbird,
no one can repeat it,
the purest invention was.

"What are you accused of, tell them,
because no fault ever existed."

With guitar in hand,
in this arbitrary time,
He was the supportive boy,
putting brother's shoulder,
with the worker, the countryman,
in the countryside and the city,
and fought against iniquity
of the owner of the region,
He marked the oligarch with fire,
He cried out for freedom.

"This little bird asks for freedom,
listen to his song, don't make him cry."

The light will return, it doesn't matter
the long night will come
like a xabiá song
and the wait will be short;
the fire that most comforts,
that of the free and equal,
the long night of evils
will change into meridian light,
purple land, tomorrow,
you will be of the orientals.