Chicharra Cantora

Oh, cicada, I don't want you to sing
That if you sing, you take away my sleep
There is no rest for this poor lumberjack
In the siesta of the Chaco Salteño

Chicharrita could your song
Turn it into a chacarera
And sing it for the carnivals
In my area, all night long

Your life is so short, cicada
I no longer hear your song that I want
He's already gone through the carob trees
It will return with the sound of February
On the qenti your song matures
Blonde Aspa, poor man's sweetness
That the leaf will give if it matures
A consolation for my sorrows

The cicada with the chicharrito
They have fun singing at nap time
The countrymen afraid of the devil
They spend their time making promises

Oh, summer violin cicada
I sing alone in the blue sky
On the release of the Sun of the puddles
Announcing his death in song

When my life returns to earth
How yours returns in February
I will be back again
Butterflies of verses and dreams
On the quenti your song matures
Blonde Aspa, poor man's sweetness
That the leaf will give if it matures
A consolation for my sorrows