Tortas Fritas

It's a custom in the countryside
When the rain invites
The country-style fried cakes
While the bad weather passes,
It's kneaded with feeling
Flour, fat, and salt mix
And then, as grandma says
You have to eat them warm,
The aroma when they fry
As soon as it rains, it takes over the neighborhood
An old custom from the countryside
That today I start to remember
Buddy, I want to invite you
While the storm passes
Come on, let's have mate
It's nice for the fried cakes.