La Bagualera

Oh, your pain, wild cowgirl
has a starry sorrow,
in your eyes and in your shawl!
Like that morning flower
that died in your hair,
the promise: Carnival.

Carnival will happen
on your wild cheek,
with the basil from your mouth
and the silk of your skirt.

Who perfumed your hips,
that devil from the hillside
chases you with his evil?
With starch your skirt
keeps the flower of your wait:
red rose, Carnival.

Carnival, carnival,
the promise, carnival.