El sacha cantor

(Chacarera)

With the devil's strings
you had your old guitar,
full of suns and moons
dreaming vidalas.

Strumming chacareras
you walked the roads,
cheek to cheek with the wine,
knocking down sorrows.

Renowned worker
prayer and healer,
less for praises
in the cemeteries.

Embraced with your guitar
you poured out joyful verses,
Sacha, singer of my land,
with the gravelly voice.

In the vineyard carts
along the vineyard,
in poncho and black hat
you were seen passing by.

Your eyes were dull,
dimmed from crying so much,
for a love you lost
for a carnival.

Where your verses gathered
to make you sing,
just like the cacuy,
in the middle of the cactus.

Embraced with your guitar
you poured out joyful verses,
Sacha, singer of my land,
with the gravelly voice.