Três Cantantes Del Momento

Here's Jorge Guerrero
From Apure, a cowboy
With a pleasant muse and melody
From Elorza, healthy, healthy
Venezuelan singer-songwriter
With innate perseverance and struggle

I'm a warrior of folklore
Because to my tricolor
When it comes to singing
I raise it with affection
Like a trill of a parrot
Feeling inside my chest
The heart of the homeland

It seems that they found each other
The boiling water and the dough
And that's what Black Alí Salinas
Emotionally recounts
The soap of my metaphors
Never wears out on me
Improvising, my verses
I sing without messing up

In the noblest way
Rafaelito Herrera arrived
Offering his serenade
The son of Guanarito
Sublime and captivating voice
Inspiration that flourishes
In the highest mountain
I bring the verse to my lips
Playing on all radios
It's not that my singing is a pole

I say this because ours
Nowadays they highlight it
Thanks to the new law
They no longer mistreat folklore
That's true, buddy
It's in the press and magazines
Our image is captured
National talent
And cultural heritage
Are no longer trampled underfoot

The youth have parties
And almost no vallenato songs are heard
They prefer a joropo today
With lyrics by Ángel Zapata
More local than a hat
Hanging on a hook
That foreign things shine
Colleagues, I think that's enough
Because ours is better
And ours is worth money

For me, joropo is
Like a second father
It's the melody that makes
My torment break
Damn, I think, Alí Salinas
That in a sly way
You played the best card

In the corral of my soul
My hope brays, mauta
Thrown here in my sorrows
Very close to a chubata
All the gloss neighs
Without bridles and without girths
That, at the point of a bush
My ego rose to the clouds
While my spirit hydrates

That's how you sing to the plains
Without letting go of cheap verses
Plain, you are my breath
When I don't see you, I feel
That hardship suffocates me
And I think my heart
Is ripped out in one go
With a two-span dagger

My self-esteem also
Ignites with the rhyme
In the middle of a bonfire
If I move from my plains
My death would be disastrous
Because seeing its landscapes
My muse gets tired of love

The reason you say
No one can take it from you
And we must spread our agency
And Apure is behind us
Let's fight for our music
The cavalcade begins
Without fear that the shot
Backfires

- Let's fight like Simón,
The one in the pantheon,
The one who died in Santa Marta.
Simón Bolívar Palacios,
His feat is still intact today,
Our universal hero,
The one Venezuela exalts.
Let's go, the cause is good.
Put your grain of sand
To fill the basket,
Under the pure feeling
That is portrayed in the soul
With the folk essence
That is tied in the strings

- The horse neighs,
The rooster crows
Those that win or draw,
Or the flight of a seagull
Strolling along the coast
Of the beautiful Arauca River,
A beautiful and divine love
That makes my trill
Sign a flag to Cupid
Drawing my illusion
With contrasting colors
Taming the chimera
That jumps in my entrails

- Through the sea of my love
The frigate has already sailed,
And the sweetness of my love
Many want to beat it,
A verse that, for being simple
Meets the conditions,
While, for being from the plains
My accent gives me away

- That's common for us:
The llaneros by the face
Are found even in Manhattan.
The llanero, for being good
And trustworthy, they don't hire him
Because our heart
Is not made of tin.
I love the beautiful plains,
Region where tenderness
Does not delay to sprout.
How good it is to dance
With a beautiful mulatto
A relancino guayaquén
Tapping the espadrille!

- The plains are a sweet land
Where cows produce
Milk, whey, cheese, and cream,
Where children wear
By rule, their pants
Rolled up to the sweet potato.
The town where I am from,
Where they chew chimó,
From that Elorza chinata,
Where my singing is dressed
Without a scarf or tie,
Bound by the leather
Of an Araguata heifer.

- Where a corrido is shouted
Without the pretense of a sonata,
Like a cannon that is heard
From Tinaquillo to Upata,
A telegram that says,
Emphasizing the postscript:
Our plains are the planet
That astronauts long for

- Venezuela is the most beautiful
And I would like to write it
On a huge banner.
I know that many people
Are amazed
Because the country we have
Ladies and gentlemen, lacks nothing.
What a shame, I don't believe it:
The counterpoint ended
In a swift manner!
Alí, Jorge, and Rafaelito
Bid farewell enthusiastically,
Three singers of the moment
Who are setting the pace