Elogio de La Pampa

Only an immense sea could stop its immeasurable geography
A limit of deep ravines, of hard rocks beaten by relentless waves
High cliffs mangruyando centuries of blue solitude and white furies
All this was necessary to set the border of that infinite plain that we criollos call with the most Indian, most beautiful name, pampa

The pampa is like a green guitar that never silences its voice
Almost two centuries cradled its exemplary dances, pain
And grace fit in the verses while the Southern Cross marks
The course for travelers without a compass
And the gaucho's heart always gallops forward
From the horse in hope or behind the horse in farewell

The forms change, wear out, renew and the soul of the pampa serene
And pensive maintains its sensitive jagüel to not lose
The true color of its spirit

It goes through stages of confusion, of despair
Sometimes airs of insubstantial foreignness blow, but the pampero winds arrive and the storm clouds dissipate and the sky remains clear

The soul of the earth is a permanent light present in the thistle flower
In the air that converses with the clover fields
In the solitude of the last ombú trees
In the countryman who silently crosses the distance as if herding
A herd of legends over that sea of grass
That we call with the most Indian
And most beautiful name, pampa