El Berrero

He was called who knows and knowing is the same
he was called who knows and knowing is the same
he used to spend the night by the canal
or at the dock enduring the storm
He used to come down from the Tornquist or Saldungaray mountains
with a back full of wild herbs from around there
for the snakebite or the stubborn pimple
For the ingrown nails, he brought the palampalal
For some he was the herder, for others just a bum
who sometimes used to heal bad luck
and more than one with a stomach ache went to talk to him
In those dark years that I can talk about
ten cents were enough to go dancing
and if you didn't have a job, you had lice to share
That hunger was a nice hunger that didn't let you think
you took one step forward and always ended up behind
that hunger was a nice hunger and not long ago
Five bucks for a bunch of herbs was enough for half of Brazil
from the counter to the side so as not to tip the scale
he spent the day sitting, grumbling his belly
When winter came from Saavedra or Pigüe
he would hop on a freight train, those that are no longer seen
a salami and a swig, oh damn it all
He would go in and out along the espartillar track
sometimes he would spend some time in Cascada or closer
or on the bridge of fortune, fishing for a catfish at random
The trains belong to us and so do the calden trees
the trains belong to us and so do the calden trees
sometimes the train stokers would throw wood
to warm the feet of those from the south of Huanguelén
I never mentioned my hometown, now I did
I never mentioned my hometown, now I did
so much hinting at a compliment and in the end I dared
because of the wood the train stokers would throw