El pericón

(Montonero Minuet)

In the native dance, our countrymen
memorize their relationships,
and when the guitarists strum it,
hearts bloom faster.

To change partners, keep going,
long live the Uruguayan girl, who goes out to dance.

Each one with their own, form couples,
the ombú shakes its old branches,
the dance celebrates the noble worries
of the land where daisies are born.

Even the ombú shakes its old branches,
the ceibo at night sends off flames,
turning and turning they form pairs,
with tender calandrias, the cardinals.

In two rows and facing each other, quick and light,
each girl looks for her partner;
a few dance steps, very slowly,
it's a treat, oriental, your little foot.

Form a tighter chain, tighter,
than that delicate jasmine in my arbor.
To change partners, keep going,
and see how the mix turns out.

Let the dark-haired girls pass from hand to hand,
Uruguayan, you shine more than summer;
it's the native dance very well strummed,
in all the guitars of the past.

The native dance is the fierce dance
of the wind in the folds of my flag,
the same in triumphs as in struggles,
it sounded in the hearths of our Artigas.