Malón de Ausencia

Seeing the sleeping fields
Fresh memories come to my mind
Of the patriotic struggles
And the idea becomes flesh

The savage pounding
On their coarse mouth
Howling screams
To impose their presence
Burning crops and huts
Taking women and livestock

In the distance the wide trace
Of the pampas is seen
And the pounding of hooves
As they embed in the earth
The spear firm in the arm
High above the flag
And the deafening noise
Of the horse in a wild race
Gaining ground and distance
Towards the noble death

Seeing the sleeping fields
Fresh memories come to my mind
The memory of a woman
Of a hut and that night

When with my gear and the bay horse
I enlisted for the war

Amalaya!... Tears
That flow from my conscience
I, who couldn't stand the Indian raids
Can't stand the absence raid!