La Ariscona

This milonga is a milonga
And it is from the yerbal mountains,
The grotas told me
And the whetstones;
The rumor of the pilgrim
And the wind in the carobal
And the surly look
Of the wild animal.

I think I hear her
In a rosillo pass;
The rider is whistling
And it is the Indian baladan.
Salamanca fields
Batoví road!
There the land is alone
When going out to lo'el ruyín.

On the red hill
The wind blows away as it passes
And the open-eyed hare
Listening among the chilcal.
On the stones the lizards
They start to brood
About time and silence
In the most natural way.
In the "yeito" of the people
And in the "prosiar" mode,
In the mate that is provided
You can't hear it but it is...
And there at Alpirio Núñez's place
Very close to the lilí
With accordion and guitar
I woke up at a dance.

And it happened one morning
That I saddled my pigeon
And I brought it with me
And I didn't return it...
And I brought it with me
And I didn't return it...