De Alpargatas Y Chupayas

There's a harvest breeze
through the Cuyano roads
giving off that little scent
that belongs to the wine.

In the unplowed furrows
the vineyard shines with beauty
black, white, and rosé
of intoxicating fruits.

Chorus

Wineries and borders
are caressed by the winemaker
cats, cuecas, and tonadas
are strummed by the guitarist.

With espadrilles and chupayas
facing the sun, bucket and scissors
little hopes in hand
each one in their row.

Don't let the bunch get lost
in the lands I hold dear
Bacchus calls for his cup
overflowing with homemade wine.