La Oncena

The snow comes down from the hill,
whitening the river with foam
and the river goes to the cloud,
free like my field.

Don't try to mold me
to sing to the earth.
I sing with all my soul,
but I sing in my own way.

I like the voice of the wind,
that always sings differently,
even though it seems the same...

I'm missing a note
to reach a dozen.
That's why, my chacarera
is called 'the eleventh'.

I don't care if they don't listen,
if they don't want to hear me;
my singing is learned by the wind:
someone will inherit it.

I don't want to stay still,
next to the life that goes by;
over the stagnant water,
the starry night goes away.

Let each one say their verse.
I don't like to walk the path
that others have traveled...

I'm missing a note