Coplas Sueltas

Poor little coyote, singing without being seen
what's the point of hiding, if the singer comes out
Look at the Virgin Mechuda, hair of water and sea
dressed in sun and moon, heart of a dove.

It's better to be dead and content, than dying and suffering
the day I die, I'll go to glory singing

It's cold in Huacalera, it's snowing in Tilcara
I can't take it anymore in Maimara and I'm struggling in Volcán

The mulberry tree is throwing stones, the siesta with its hail
and summer bleeds it, with its wine-colored siesta.

I will go to heaven, my dear, when I die
the stores will cry and the wine would cry

My mother with reeds and my father with good herb
I want to be a gardener, but only with sorrows

Oh, carnival has arrived
a sprig of basil
let me cry.