Noches de Salta

(Zamba)

The moon paints with silver
the ravine and the valleys
and hears the singing of the coyote
hidden among the branches
(and the nights are the nights
of my province of Salta).

In the midst of silences
one can hear in the distance
the farewell cry
of a dying race
(the verses cry to the wind
in the nights of my Salta).

Give me a night from Salta
cry the flutes, sound the drums
let the sorrows fall asleep
at the bottom of my soul
(beautiful nights are the nights
of my province of Salta).

The music of the breeze
choirs of crickets that sing
the valleys that fall asleep
under the silver moon
(magic of blue skies
exists in the nights of Salta).

I want to dream singing
under those silver nights
and let the zambas and bagualas
fly with the breeze
(let the stars sweeten me
in the nights of Salta).

Give me a night from Salta
cry the flutes, sound the drums
let the sorrows fall asleep
at the bottom of my soul
(beautiful nights are the nights
of my province of Salta).