El Huayra Muyoj

They say the huayra was an old pampa Indian
Who always sings with longing and dances for the sun in the jungle's shadows

Sacha huayra, the singer, keeps on singing
Through the silent hills; with the kari, he’s strumming for those dark eyes

One more little turn to reach my love
Huayra muyoj, stomping, spinning around a flower

Huayra, huayra muyoj where the zupay dances
In the old folks, it’s a "damn devil!" And in the young ladies, it’s a "oh!"
Because the huayra is gone

The afternoon is fading; the pampa will sleep to the herder's whistle
In the Indian who sings to us and in the voice of the cattle driver

For me, there are no sorrows, like a Santiago native
Because I dance chacareras in the huayramaqueño