Virutaivino

Happy wine, pure flame, very sparkling
That suddenly ignites, breaks the voice
And slowly turns to ashes when the singer
Fades away in little pieces like coal

On Fridays, Castillo arrives, opens the workshop
And his carpenter hand smells like laurel
While through the veins of a guayabil
Montoya dreams of polishing his indigo sky

I'm leaving now, little wool flower
Call me and I'll come back tomorrow
Climbing in the guadales
The road goes up, zambita of the branches
Sawdust and wine

With his batches of verses, Guitián comes
Light a fire and make embers, Tata Portal
Because if a devil sparks from the fingerboard
It's because Pipo Segón is singing

If the poor people fall asleep, mud on the skin
Cambronero wakes them up with his brush
And if Beto Ojeda stings, Flor de Alelí
Gonzalez thinks of Bolivia, red with chili

I'm leaving now, little wool flower
Call me and I'll come back tomorrow
Climbing in the guadales
The road goes up, zambita of the branches
Sawdust and wine