Maturana

Maturana

The one who sings is Maturana
Chilean by birth
He travels the earth
With all his land inside

Walking through those mountains
In Salta he has become a lumberjack
If he's going to fell a quebracho tree
His blood cries first

Little Chilean
Oh, exiled
In the wine that puts him to sleep
Asleep, he cries for his homeland

What will become of this lumberjack?
Of the one who has been nothing
The wines that this Chilean drank
Will sing about him

Perhaps the coal will remember
The man who burned it
And that in the smoke went to heaven
Little ax man, Maturana