Mi Pobre Vida de Estancia

a little pile of embers
warm my hopes
in the harshness of winter
they shorten distances
the days unravel
and the hungers grow
the years go by without turns
my poor life on the ranch
and they come in flocks
memories of that childhood
rustic stew, barbecues
return in the distance
in that old meeting place
ghosts and apparitions
roundups, branding, lassoing
experiences of the past
domingo bar and sugarcane
guitar playing, some horse racing
forgetting the sorrows
with my accordion
the embers have burned out
ashes the hopes
and life has passed
my poor life on the ranch