Aquí Hay Guerrero Pa' Rato

Elorza, my beloved town, perched on the cliff
By the beautiful Arauca River, between calm and calm
With a lineage more local than the scent of herbs
And a soul lost from sight, due to the kindness in the way
Of your hospitable people, whom I love and cherish so much
Because besides affection, they give me pleasant moments
Moments that when I write, I relive and emphasize
And I carry them in my memory, etched like a portrait
Oh portrait, I left you one morning, riding my horse
Your local festivities of March were just wrapping up, and like after a dance
What’s left is the hangover, I was feeling more beat up than a chicken and a turkey
With my saddlebags full of sorrows and disappointments, over a beautiful woman
Who slipped from my arms
Oh from my arms, I clearly remember fame
That from the other side of the yard, I downed the last drink I had in a jar
And I said, you don’t know, town, how much pain I leave with, but I’m off to fulfill
A patriotic commitment, that I can swear to you
By the lights of the stars

That wherever I go, you’ll be the guide of my steps, and I’ll do everything
Possible to raise your name high
Oh very high, that’s how I drifted
Like a shipwrecked sailor, spinning more than a top when the holy days come
Enduring humiliations and taking hits until I recorded a little disc
That impacted many and my name started to grow in the city
Maybe it was the feeling for the local and the vernacular, the truth is that now I don’t go out
Kids with those gadgets, singing more than a carrao, longing for the downpours
And here I go, beloved town, tying down the guayabero passage
And the maranto joropito, not caring about what those rancid beings invent
Who want to see me out there in pure disgrace, when it’s not an accident
They invent that I’m dead, and then do I have the 7 lives of a cat?
What do you think, gentlemen, how the case is resolved? The little warrior singing
And they suffering for being fools, and instead of moving forward, they’re just falling behind

From so much traveling and singing through these wide paths, one day life ordered me
That I had to take a break, I, as a good worker and laborer of the field
In the middle of the hustle, I decided to rest a bit, I said to myself
I’m going to leave the rush behind, and in the meantime, I sharpened my machete and fixed my tools, I went to the ranch
To drink some water and hugged my three kids and told my girl, don’t worry, my love
Dress in spring colors, give me a kiss and a hug, this isn’t my farewell, just
A break, here we won’t lack the posillito, it’s guarapo, nor the piece of fried meat
Nor the topochito
On the plate, I saved a cere cere for the clothes and shoes, for me, no one should worry
With what I have in the field, I walk better in sandals and barefoot, yeah barefoot
I’m not going to carry them living in the ramalaches waiting for someone else to suck the
Bagazo first, I’m going to the mountains with the shotgun and a sack, oh with a sack, from the house
Up there, you catch a bank on the slope, there’s no shortage of 10 sows and a boar
Cachicamo like a touch and a big old garden toad with that red beak of the correct one and the yaguazo
The heron of all types, carrao, gabán, and chicuaco, and further down a stream full of curito

And galapagos with an old mother nearby where the chacharos get dizzy, oh the chacharos
After these confusions, my wife got in step and told me, no problem, I like those chops
Maybe because she knows I’m a straightforward man, raised like
The old folks, correct, pure, and exact, plus with the habit since I was a kid
Of not begging anyone or asking for work in a herd where I see the fat beasts
And find the skinny dogs because that’s a sign they don’t kill even
A tautaco, and the owner is tighter than a baby araguato, sleeping on his mother’s back
In a matamazos, and a country boy like me, who never gets stuck in any mud
The day I find nothing, I eat like a starving bird with boiled changuango
And seasoned with root of mato, it’s a bit bitter but with hunger, I get through
This way I stay healthy, energized, and without parasites, eat it if you suffer
Pain in your spine, if it hits your belly, the little bird or the glass, but that’s
Not the issue nor the point of my story, what I want is for you to understand
What a real man is worth, who isn’t scared off by shouts nor is troubled
By mistreatment, that’s why in this joropo, I throw the first machetazo that indicates my
New path on the road of song, let the harp sound with the maraca bass
And the cuatro, I’m still here planted like the botalon of acapro, showing my people that
Here’s a warrior for a while.