La Tropilla

In the dream room
It was his charm and wonder
A damn herd
Who selected my effort
I was, without boasting, the owner
From that herd that was
The best I knew
The payment of my passions
And there was no pretensions there
Of the hair you asked for

I had a chestnut and a wolf
A Moor, a Colorado
A bay, a white, a tan
A wild boar and a zebrunette
But better than none
That bagual pangaré
That I myself tamed him
And it turned out so good for me
That the day he died
I almost cried out of sadness

I had a pampa and a dapple
A crawler, a rabicano
A bluebird, a roan
A spotted one and a golden one
Among them I had a little pink one
That I finished in the village'
That without having prepared it'
I beat him being an opponent
To the commissioner's cock
That nobody had beaten him

I had a pink overo'
A chestnut, a Picasso
That for any shot there is a loop
I have found nothing better
A braggadocio' evil face
Willful and confident
And to get out of a tight spot
Fleeing from the commotion
I had a black bean
A tobiano and a dark one

I had a gray sabino
Like a fish to swim
A quick walk to cross
Swirling streams
Like a light on the path
I have prepared it many times
I won many races
And on the day of the dance, to a young woman
The most beautiful of the payment
I gave him the bagual

Now it's all over'
In my mourning shack
There is not even a claw
Muzzle, reins or handle
Only in borrowed nags'
I usually walk on occasion
I don't even sing in the kitchen anymore
My joys are gone
And my horses died
Just like my illusions