Xucro Ofício

As soon as it clears up, I find myself sipping mate
By the fire that warms the early mornings
In a little while, the sun rises on the horizon
I've been bottling up ideas since yesterday

I drag the jugs to the edge of the shed
With the bridle in hand, I head towards the trough
A bit drowsy, I watch over the herd
Coming from the pasture, they become the pride of the corral

But what do I care, as I rise half-asleep
Spurs turned from my gaucho boots
Every Monday there's a horse with a swollen back
Guessing I had a rough night

I gather the rings of the cinch on my chest bone
I look for a way, search for the turn and secure myself
After I mount and throw the coffin back
Only God with a hook, to pull me out of the saddle

I feel like putting the bridle on the face
Of this stubborn horse that forgot how to behave
But I guarantee that under my saddle
It knows the bit and learns to respect the rules

I shout at him, I nail the irons on his shoulder
With an open mouth, the bruised chin sells strength
Dealing with tough horses that scare many
My rough trade that I turned into a habit