Milonga Dos Ancestrais

I tune the strings of the pine in this country milonga
Rougher than a fence post worn by the wild ones
I sing of ancestral blood where the great river flows
As long as my soul commands, my song won’t stop
It’s the voice of my forefathers that I hear wherever I roam

There are bronze-skinned Guaranis from the past where I come from
Roots of the old wood where branches and flowers sprouted
There’s the conquering blood of the Portuguese and Spaniards
Shining like beacons in our earthly origins
Ancestors, stamped witnesses of moons and suns

My lantern is golden light, the moonlight of the Indian Sepé
The one who raised the mission cathedrals
I come from Pinto Bandeira, from Bento and Canabarro
And if I wander further back, I come from Borges do Canto
From the ranch I now raise, with posts, ropes, and clay

My great-grandfather stood up with a spear in hand
In the vast land stretched across the four cardinal points
He was wild among the wild, a rock on mountain peaks
He planted a ranch on the land watered with his sweat
In peace as a rancher and a shepherd, and a tiger in times of war

I ride the colts that are the offspring of the chimarrona herds
Who were the ladies and owners of the land when it was divided
And my step, when it treads fields and flowers and thorns
Goes to the ancestral trail that raised the same echo
The wooden ranches and the bells of the cathedrals

I come from far back in time, even though these are new times
I’m a child of the seven peoples, I’m a white Indian and mestizo
And maybe that’s why when the night stretches on
I’m Urutau and Araponga, João de Barro and Siriema
In blood made a poem of a milonga’s strumming