Rio De Los Pájaros
José Larralde
River of the Birds
Uruguay is not a river
It's a blue sky traveling
Painter of clouds on the way
With a taste of rural honeys
The loves of the coast
Are loves without destiny
Water hyacinth of hope
That the river takes away
Chua, chua, chua ha ha ha
Don't sing anymore, little turtledove
The ceibo tree cries blood
Little washerwoman
Little heron of the coast
Roll up your skirt
Start washing the clothes
Your mother cooks jerky
Your father went up the river
And you stayed alone
Washing clothes on the shore
Fishing canoe
Hold on during the storm
If my arms don't tire
Rowing, I will get you out
Curly-haired little boy
Eyes like a caiman
Chirping belly
Coffee-colored back
