Metendo Ficha

I reap what I sow
Taking care of the field, sipping mate in the shed
And I drag life along
Playing for the expenses, chatting with the creation

I clear my mind out there
Letting go of useless sorrows
And I still gather around
The same horses I come across in the disputes

With the saddlebags open
The lasso's arm falls on the hip
And the soul fills the stirrup
With all the letters, herding on its own

Beloved, time is ugly and limping like a dog
Cutting through the middle of a gaucho heart
And the accordion, old cowboy, in a friendly four-beat
Walks with a puffed chest, comforting the ear