Guitarrero

Guitarist
With your singing
you're filling my soul with light,
because your trembling voice
is deep inside the party.

Like a dagger,
the wild cry of the baguala is stuck,
and the echo of your heart
becomes a drum in the cacharpayas.

If someday time
silences your guitar forever,
the wind will go over your dream
breaking jacarandá wood.
Goodbye, goodbye guitarist,
which path will your old trail take!

Son of that old singer,
who went to the heaven of vidalas,
by the night stained
with the stars of his guitar.

Don't leave, guitarist,
my soul's light is fading;
I want to dawn again
to die in the cacharpayas.