A Los Maestros Rurales
Cuti Carabajal
To the Rural Teachers
I embrace the rural teachers with my folk songs
Those who walk with their truths, spreading knowledge across borders
Field teacher outside, a pillar of big cities
My song flows with tenderness for the first teacher
Patience like a missionary from the sweet times
I wish to pour my wise verses into her pure soul
To the north of my dreams, the school lent a shoulder
There I found the potter who shaped my path
Teacher was my destiny, shavings from your wood
At the foot of your mission, teacher of my Argentina
Who gives their life at the edge of the borders
I leave you this sincere and grateful folk song
The winter rains can't dampen their strength
Flags of education are the rural teachers
Who pull flowers of hope from the muddy ground
I remember my teacher in her white apron
Walking among so many kids like she was a goddess
With hands like butterflies, watching over us
Mandinga catches fire against the pain of the stones
The earth cracks, the sun shatters into pieces
And the teacher on horseback rides through the mountains
At the foot of your mission, teacher of my Argentina
Who gives their life at the edge of the borders
I leave you this sincere and grateful folk song
