A Don Ata

Through the path of the Indian
The spirit of Don Ata
Riding his chestnut horse
The vidala saw him pass by
The air of the hill
The flowers of the valley
Tangle in his soul
Ay ay Don Ata

A Tucuman moon
Lights up stone and road
And next to La Pobrecita
The mountains and rivers cry for him
For Tafi del Valle
Fields of Acheral
Also for La Bomba and Lules
Just like for Amaicha

The girl from Santiago del Estero
To relieve him from the cold
Weaves him a poncho pampa
For the pursued troubadour
There in the ravines and in Salavina
La Humilde with La Olvidada
Look for shelter for him

There goes Don Atahualpa
Through the roads of the world
With a verse as his lance
Marking the four directions
May God bless him
Keep him in glory
For so many beautiful memories
And for his memory

A lonely muleteer
Passed through Altamirano
With a nostalgic whistle
In search of his brothers
Driving his sorrows
For not finding them
He slowly left
The land of Entre Ríos

The day is breaking
Over Cerro Colorado
And in the thorns of the churqui tree
A broken ray strikes
La Añera wakes up with La Huanchaqueña
San Francisco del Chañar and also Santa Elena

A breeze from Buenos Aires
Gave him its wind song
And he fell asleep on a trail
In a timeless style
There in Pergamino, maybe Santa Rosa
The entire pampa mourns him in a bass string

There goes Don Atahualpa
Through the roads of the world
With a verse as his lance
Marking the four directions
May God bless him
Keep him in glory
For so many beautiful memories
And for his memory