La Vuelta Del Santiagueño

I'm back to the land of my ancestors
To those hills where I was born
From quebracho, a mile and a half
In the midst of the jumes and the algarrobo.

My little box is waiting
For me to strike it and make it sing
Verses of my life, heartfelt vidalas
That it kept deep within its fibers.

Chorus
I carry the dust of many roads
Disappointments and a great bitterness
I'm a wandering bird returning to its nest
In search of calm, peace, and love.

The coyuyos are already singing
Announcing the harvest is near
The new algarroba with golden pods
That we’ll savor later on.

Once again, the winds bring me
From the depths of the quebrachal
A rhythmic beat of the bombo legüero
That echoes its sad lament.