Bajo Belgrano

Under Belgrano, how healthy
your pampa breeze of youth
that brings whistles, song, and laughterrom the studs' courtyards.
So much hope that lives in you!...
The little worker's who talks to the crack:
'Take me out of poverty, dear horse,
don't let me down for the National...'

The warm spring night
the guitars stir in 'El Lucero',
the sure bet of the horse races is made
and they are having barbecue, dancing, and singing.
And while a tango loses its life
that the hoarse bellows slowly hum,
the number of a milonga rises
with the praise of the caretaker.

Blandengues Street, where
the pretty and gentle dark-haired girl appears
who puts her sympathy
wrapped in her gaze on an apron.
And in the dawn of the preparations
with the short trot of the groom,
the longing for fortune crosses paths
with the smile of true love.

Under Belgrano...Every week
your shout that reaches the center
- 'Program and mounts for tomorrow!'
ignites the hopes.
And in the delirium of Sundays
you have gathered in front of the field,
screaming the names of your hundred horses,
the twenty neighborhoods of the city!