Contramarca

In the long harvest of my years
half-Indian for love,
I always dodged the claws of love,
but on my path, you crossed me
and that afternoon, for my pain,
you pierced me with your Creole eyes.
And to the yoke of affection
I went in deep,
trusting and noble,
feeling poorer
than the spiders
after falling for your tricks
under your lasso...

Cruel girl, what have you come for?
What are you looking for in this shack?
You’ve already faded from my memory
and my gaucho heart now beats wider
and that mark my knife made on you
was well deserved,
you’ll carry it, showing off in the street
so you never forget
your betrayal.

In the old turmoil of my soul
don't come to tangle things up.
You’ve got a countermark. You’re not welcome in this pen.
So hurry up and get your ass out
for your own good or your own bad
and get lost in the pasture where you were.

With one button for a sample
I have enough
and I can take a lot
before falling again.
I swear, I beg you,
that next to the tiger
it’s easy for the foxes
like you to get in trouble.