De Simoca

Cane carts cross the lagoon
The cricket sings to the moon
And in the valleys my box resounds
Singing with the harvest all of Tucumán

The night in your eyes, the honey in your mouth
I bring the song of the sugarcane field
Of the moon that illuminates Simoca
When it fancies shining at night

I speak to my ranch, to the sugarcane fields
I wish she could hear
When the moon rises in Simoca
With very little she will be content

The carts go up the road
Thinking about the noise of their rattling
Like the moonlit cricket in Simoca
I sing my song of the sugarcane field

Zamba loves, harvest the crop
The girl adorns herself to enchant
That just a word I fancy
After her mouth, you will want nothing

I speak to my ranch, to the sugarcane fields
I wish she could hear
When the Moon rises in Simoca
With very little she will be content