La Pobrecita

They call her the Poor Girl
Because this zamba was born in the fields
With a poorly strung guitar
It is always sung by the people from Tucumán

There in the sugar cane fields
When the night is approaching
Through the furrows you can see from afar
The flickering lights of the cigarettes

Little sun of the road
Moon of my homeland
In the poor girl zamba of the furrow
The people from Tucumán sing their sorrows

My zamba doesn't sing joys
Only sorrows the countryman has
With the little threads of hope
The people from Tucumán form their dreams

I know the sad pain
Of absences and bad pay
In my long night, the fires are lit
By the flickering lights of disillusionment

Little sun of the road
Moon of my homeland
In the poor girl zamba of the furrow
The people from Tucumán sing their sorrows