Río de Los Pájaros
Jorge Cafrune
River of the Birds
Uruguay is not a river
It's a blue sky traveling
Painter of clouds on the way
With a taste of rural honeys
The loves of the coast
Are loves without destiny
Hopeful water hyacinths
That the river takes away
Chuá, chuá, chuá ha ha ha
Don't sing anymore, little torcacita
The ceibo tree cries blood
Little dark-skinned washerwoman
Coastal little heron
Roll up your skirt
Start washing the clothes
Your mother cooks jerky
Your father went up the river
And you stayed alone
Washing clothes on the shore
Chuá, chuá, chuá ha ha ha
Don't sing anymore, little torcacita
The ceibo tree cries blood
Little fishing canoe
Hold on during the storm
If my arms don't get tired
Rowing, I will get you out
Curly-haired little boy
Alligator-eyed
Chirping belly
Coffee-colored back
Chuá, chuá, chuá ha ha ha
Don't sing anymore, little torcacita
The ceibo tree cries blood
