Bajo Los Cielos de Tucumán

Why do they have the warmth of a bird's nest
And the softness of an angel's cradle
Why do they have the fragrance of orange groves
And the greenery of dense sugarcane fields
I sing to your hallucinated evenings
Tucuman of my dreams and my nostalgia

The scorching sun of Aconquija
Put its radiance in my eyes
What lies at the bottom of my soul
Tradition sings its glory

How beautiful the chest of Aconquija
And that race that is leaving us
I follow the path of the dawns
Under the skies of Tucuman

The memory of the dead Indian grows
Bathed in the shadow of the quebracho forest
I stretched my gaze over the deserts
Searching for the soul of Tucuman

And now time only leaves us
The sad remains of that era
Sound of drums; song of pan flute
In the whole soul of Tucuman
That's why my sky complains
I don't long for the kiss of the orange grove

And with my songs I cry and bless
The heroic soul of Tucuman

And when the sad echo
Of the beyond reaches my life
I want the sweet evenings of Tucuman
To sleep in my eyes