El Cosechero
Ramón Ayala
The Harvester
The old river that goes
Crossing the dawn
Like a great marsh
Carries the raft in its crazy sway
Heading to the harvest, harvester I will be
And among white flakes I will sing my hope
With calloused hands I will leave on the cotton
My heart
The land of the quebracho and wild Chaco
Will ignite in my blood with a hoarse sapucay
And my hat will be in the furrow under the Sun
Lighthouse of light
Cotton that goes, that goes, that goes
Soft silver wet with Moon and sweat
A little drunk ranch of dreams and love
I want
Cotton that goes, that goes, that goes
Soft silver wet with Moon and sweat
A little drunk ranch of dreams and love
I want
From Corrientes I come
Barranquera is already seen
And on the coast an accordion
Moaning goes its slow chamamé
Heading to the harvest, harvester I will be
And among white flakes I will sing my hope
With calloused hands I will leave on the cotton
My heart
The land of the quebracho and wild Chaco
Will ignite in my blood with a hoarse sapucay
And my hat will be in the furrow under the Sun
Lighthouse of light
Cotton that goes, that goes, that goes
Soft silver wet with Moon and sweat
A little drunk ranch of dreams and love
I want
Cotton that goes, that goes, that goes
Soft silver wet with Moon and sweat
A little drunk ranch of dreams and love
I want
I want
I want
