El choclo (Villoldo)

From a grain a plant is born
that later gives us the corn
that's why from the throat
he said he was humbled.
And I, as I am no other
than a famous tango dancer
murmur with joy
it's very banana-like.

There are corn cobs
with golden spikes
that are the ones I adore
with tender passion,
when working
full of thorns
I am with stubble
like a humble peon.

With washed blonde
in long locks
I contemplate couples
if it's like growing,
with those mustaches
that the virgin land
usually offers
to the noble countryman.

Sometimes the corn
roasts in the hearths
calming passions
and joys of love,
when some countryman
is cooking it
and another is pouring
a good cimarrón.

After the humita
is prepared,
under the arbor
a pericón is heard,
and next to the eaves,
of a ruined ranch
from some chest
the cheerful song emerges.