El aguacero (Canción de la Pampa)

As if renouncing Destiny
braiding leagues and leagues over the sad expanse
the cart goes, creaking on the road
that seems to open up, at the pace of its white shell.

When the bones squeak
a sign that a storm is coming...
A fresh breeze curls the fields
and the ovenbirds make noise announcing the downpour...

And the Pampas is a green handkerchief,
hanging from the sky,
stretched in the sun,
like life sometimes turns out
without shadows or wounds,
without sorrow or love...
The wind from the ravine
brings the taste of wet earth
and in the song of the old ox driver
it seems the pampero
blows his pain...

The storm has suddenly unleashed
and the rain is a curtain stretched in the vastness
while the oxen, on the dusty path,
blow contentedly as if eager to walk...
Bless the song of the tero
that greets the downpour!
The sadness of the road is no longer so sad
and in the vertigo the ox driver feels like singing.

Langanay, old ox, gray back,
silent partner of the same suffering,
the same yoke ties us to the road...
Heavy destiny
of walking and walking!
Where will you go, gray back ox
that the ox driver won't follow you?
And the Pampas is a green handkerchief,
hanging from the sky, wanting to cry...